


before I rightly explode

by insunshine



Category: Actor RPF, Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, College, F/F, M/M, Rare Pairings, Would you believe me if I told you this is way less cracky than it sounds?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-15
Updated: 2012-10-15
Packaged: 2017-11-16 09:41:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 26,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/538111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/insunshine/pseuds/insunshine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Where there are best friends, road trips, and sometimes you fall in love with people you aren't supposed to.</p>
            </blockquote>





	before I rightly explode

**Author's Note:**

> You know how people are like, "It took a village!" and you see that and think, wait, but did it really? This really took a village. Great, huge tackle hugs and thanks to Amanda, who consistently deals with my: "Heeeeeeeeeeeeeeeey, Pants, could you beta this even though you don't know these people?" @tweets, to Maddy who so kindly went over this with me in the summer months and made my babblings infinitely better and finally to Ceej, my best gal, and without whom the word _quietly_ would have lost all meaning. 
> 
> If this story is in any condition to be read, it's thanks to these lovely ladies. Any remaining mistakes are entirely my own.
> 
> (The title was shamelessly stolen from the Jason Mraz track 'If It Kills Me', which is outrightly delightful.)

**Prologue**

Jesse moves to Maple Ridge about a week before Laddy’s eleventh birthday. Getting a new best friend is kind of a weird present, but he can’t think of anything better. There are no other families with kids on their street until the Eisenbergs move in, and Laddy spends every day of his grade five winter holiday helping them unpack their boxes. Mike helps a little too, but he has hockey camp and Joshua is too small to do much good, so it’s Laddy who spends the bulk of his time with dust in his hair and cobwebs clinging to his knees.

Mr. Eisenberg invites him to stay for dinner every night, even though he lives just across the street, and by the end of the weekend, he and Jesse are already making plans to sit together on the school bus the next morning.

That summer, Hallie Kate says, “Andrew, you’re the best friend we’ve ever had,” and burrows against his side like it’s a secret. The heat is sweltering, even though the sun has been down for hours, but he hugs her back anyway, tucking her under his arm.

“Me too,” he says, and he means it.

;;

Laddy’s appendix explodes on the ice the winter he's sixteen. The emergency apendectomy would’ve been bad enough, maybe, but the fall causes him to tear a tendon in his shoulder and break his arm in four places, too. It means he’s out for the rest of the season, he knows that for sure, even though no one’s confirmed it yet, but he can't figure out how bad the damage is. Mostly, when he comes to after surgery, he feels tired and tingly. 

It doesn’t take long for his dad to come in, eyes red like he’s been crying. “Dad?” Laddy asks, trying to sit up and only getting dizzy for his trouble. "What's going on?” he asks when their faces are closer together and he doesn’t have to strain himself.

"Nothing," Dad says. “Everything’s fine, bud."

Laddy has to spend a week in the hospital, beeping machines keeping track of his heartbeat and his blood pressure and his breathing. It’s pretty much the worst thing he’s ever had to do. At least it is until he gets shuttled to the rehab facility a week later.

The loss of equilibrium is what really messes him up. Laddy’s his best on skates and he always has been. The tight, fiery pain in his shoulder the dizziness in his head and the pull of the stitches on his stomach all mix together to leave him useless; breathless and aching every time he tries to stand, or walk, or _function_.

;;

It’s taking Jesse too long to understand, which is messed up, because Jesse always understands stuff. It’s frustrating and it's deviating from routine, but worse, it’s making Laddy talk about it again. It sucks, even though Jesse obviously isn’t doing it on purpose.

“So,” Jesse says, the third time he’s started this exact same sentence. "You just can’t play anymore? Can they really do that?” 

He sounds surprised, like maybe he thought the human body wasn’t built for breaking down, or that Laddy’s was like Teflon, indestructible. This definitely isn’t the first time Jesse’s seen him hurt.

Laddy pushes his hair out of his face with his uninjured hand and winces as the stitches on his stomach pull. “I don’t know, okay? I just.” Sometimes, when he gets really anxious, his throat starts to get tight and breathing right gets almost impossible. He thinks about what Doctor Jennings said, tries to clear his mind and become aware of his surroundings and he's okay after a few seconds, mostly. “Not now, but maybe someday?” he says quietly, and that’s the worst part. Hockey is the only thing he’s ever been good at and his body wants to take it away from him now.

Jesse nudges his good elbow, trying to smile. 

“It’ll be okay,” he says, confident and sure. He’s eighteen, a full two years and some change older than Laddy is. He might know something nobody else does yet. That’s how it usually goes, with Jesse.

They play Go Fish on the porch for a while, even though they have to keep their gloves on, and the fingers on Laddy’s injured side start to tingle from the chill. It’s okay, though, he likes it, because it means he can still feel something, even if he’s not feeling the right things. 

They’re out there until his mom comes to stand in the doorway, opening the screen with a screech and an apologetic look on her face. 

“Andrew, it’s time to take your medicine,” she says, and even though he’s been trying not to whine about it, Laddy can’t help the face he makes. He can’t stand his pills, hates how loopy they make him; tired when he hasn’t even done anything to deserve it.

“Sorry for keeping him out here so long, Mrs. Ladd,” Jesse says, standing so fast his chair almost clatters over. His face is bright red when he resurfaces, and Laddy tries not to laugh, but it’s too hard not to.

His mom rolls her eyes, but it’s affectionate, of course. His whole family loves Jesse. “It’s okay, Jess. It's good you were here. Andy would be going crazy on his own.” 

She's not wrong. Some of the other guys from the team have made appearances too, of course, but they have practices to get through and games to play. It's just easier if Laddy's not around them all the time. 

Jesse leans forward, squeezing Laddy’s good arm, mumbles a rushed goodbye to both of them and practically runs across the street to his house. 

Leaning against the doorjamb, his mom says, “When do you think he’ll finally be comfortable over here, you think?” and only stops laughing when Laddy frowns as tries to stand, needing help to get up from the table.

“Sometime before he hits ninety, hopefully,” he says, and she starts to laugh again, holding the door open as she leads him inside.

;;

They’d known it would happen, but Laddy’s still pretty bummed when Jesse gets early admission acceptance back from the Tisch school at NYU. He’s happy, too, of course, stoked out of his mind for the kid, but it still sucks that he has another two years left of school, and they’re years he’ll probably have to spend not playing hockey and with Jesse so far away. Steeger and Seabrook are pretty good dudes, his best hockey friends, definitely, but they're still playing. The less time Laddy spends with them, the less he can hate them for it.

“No, no,” Jesse says at his graduation party later that spring. He’s practically vibrating with excitement and nerves, gripping Laddy’s uninjured arm tightly. “It’s like,” he says, and then flicks his tongue over his lips like he only does when he’s trying to calm himself down, too excited to really breathe right. “It’s _New York_ , Andrew. You can come and visit me all the time and sleep on my couch and we’ll eat the best pastries and drink terrible coffee until we learn where the good stuff is, and I’ll, I’ll—”

“I know, bud,” Laddy says, checking Jesse lightly, because even though he’s not in as much pain anymore and the stitches are finally out of his stomach, he can still feel the injury in his shoulder, just waiting for him to screw up again. “You’ll rock it.”

“I’ll miss you, though,” Jesse says tersely, and then he’s throwing his arms across Laddy’s shoulders, tugging him close for the kind of hug they haven’t shared in years, since the disastrous month when the Eisenbergs thought sleepaway drama camp was the best place to send Jesse the summer before grade 9.

Laddy doesn’t say anything, face tucked into Jesse’s shoulder. None of the words he’s got are right, and besides, Jesse’s the one who’s better at them.

“You guys are so gross,” Hallie Kate says from behind them, and she only squawks a little when Laddy pulls her in, too, mashing his knuckles against her curls, and tickling under her chin until she hugs them back, her fingers biting against both their backs.

;;

About a month before school starts, most of the Ladd family goes camping at Alice Lake. It’s an annual trip, time permitting, and it’s easier to plan now without having to worry about scheduling around Laddy’s camp and conditioning and hockey trials. Mike’s already at school, bulking up for his season, and Laddy’s bummed his brother can’t come, but he’s also little relieved to avoid having to hear about hockey and strength training and all the things he can’t make his body to do anymore. 

He asks Jesse to join them, like he always does when they get the final dates hammered out, but Jesse’s fidgeting and weird and says, “No, um, thanks. Sorry,” less than a minute later.

It’s definitely weird, but weird in the way that Jesse’s always weird. If he’s not ready to talk about it, though, Laddy isn’t going to be the one to force it out of him. Jesse’ll tell him when he’s ready, and if he doesn’t, well. There’s always the tickle method. 

"Any takers?" Mom asks, poking her head into his room. They've always had at least one extra guest and Joshie's already got two little buds that he’s dragging along.

Laddy shrugs. "Steeger's in Alberta visiting his aunt and the Seabrooks are repainting their deck or something." 

"Jesse?" she asks. Jesse's pretty much a constant at all Ladd family events.

"He's being weird," Laddy says. He's definitely deploying the tickle method when they get home. 

;;

Alice Lake is as beautiful as ever. They hike, go canoeing and Laddy’s exhausted by the time they drive back, but it’s the good kind of tired, where his bones and hands and feet hurt because he was doing something more than just being awake all day.

Hallie Kate is waiting on their front steps when they pull into the driveway late Sunday night, and his stomach cramps up so fast it feels like he’s going to puke. His dad raises his brows when their eyes meet in the rearview, and Laddy gets out first, leaving everyone else in the car in case they have to get back in immediately.

“HK?” he asks, kneeling by her on the second to last step. She’s small and skinny, too little to be out here by herself this late, and she’s shivering despite the fact that she’s wearing one of his old Express sweaters. It’s huge on her even though she’s almost nine, puddling around her waist and over her wrists. “What’s going on?”

She clears her throat. 

“It’s Jesse,” she says, and the bottom drops out of Laddy's stomach. She takes a breath and he imagines fires and famines and robberies; broken bones and fragmented skulls and _brain injuries_ , fuck. “He wants to drive _by himself_ to _New York_.”

Definitely a brain injury, then. “He, ah,” Laddy says, trying his best to sound calm. “He’s okay, though?”

“For now,” she mutters under her breath. 

;;

They have a big, two-family conference about it. There are flow charts and pie charts and bread pudding, which is the only part Laddy really cares about, since he can actually eat bread now, and Jesse’s not going anywhere by himself. It’s decided that he’ll leave a week earlier than expected, and Laddy will make the drive down with him. He’s trying not to think too hard about the part where he has to fly home by himself, mostly because he can’t believe his parents actually agreed to this plan. He mentions it to his mom later, taking his pills while she wraps ice for his shoulder.

“Aside from his abysmal driving skills,” she teases, “Jess is the most responsible person we know. I’m pretty sure he’s over there right now writing explicit notes on what his parents, Hallie and Kerri are and aren’t allowed to do while he’s gone.”

Laddy shrugs. “There’s a method to his madness,” he says. “I’m pretty sure, anyway.”

;;

He packs light. It’s a holdover from playing with the Express and a habit he hasn’t been able to shake. It’s going to be a long drive, 3000 miles, give or take, spread over eight days, but he’s looking forward to it. It’s the only time he’s ever gone anywhere without his family that wasn’t a one-nighter or a hockey trip and it’s with _Jesse_ , which makes it all that much better.

Hallie Kate is furious with both of them, he knows, but Laddy can’t actually stop smiling long enough to feel bad about it.

“I know why I can’t come,” she says, the afternoon before take off, when he’s burning a hole through the rug between his room and the bathroom, checking to make sure he’s got all his toiletries packed. “I’m not stupid; I know why you can’t take me.” Her chin wobbles a little, eyes wide with tears. She pulls this kind of thing all the time, but if Jesse still isn’t immune, Laddy’s even worse.

He drops his toothbrush and deodorant into his duffel and then sits on the bed next to her, squeezing his arm around her shoulders. 

“I know why we can’t take you too,” he says, and she stops sniffling for long enough to laugh, and then elbows him so hard in the stomach he loses his breath for almost a full minute.

“I just wish I were old enough to go,” she continues, like he hadn’t spoken at all. That’s pretty much always the way.

He nudges her a little before getting back up to his feet, checking his sweats and his sneakers and the ratio of plaid to t-shirts to fancier button-downs. He doesn’t know why his mom is insisting on the fancy shirts, but he does know she’ll recheck and shove them in his bag without asking first, so it’s better just to listen than to have her upset the delicate ecosystem of his stuff.

“You’re so weird,” Hallie Kate says from the bed, but that doesn’t stop her from crawling closer and poking through the contents of his bag. “I don’t want you to go,” she mumbles, and this time when her voice comes out heavy, he knows it’s sincere.

“I know,” he says and he tries to think of something more comforting to say, but he’s got nothing. “I’ll be back soon, though. And you know Jess’ll call all the time.”

The Eisenbergs are from New Jersey originally, but only Kerri has real memories of it. Jesse says he doesn’t remember a lot of the details, and Hallie even less. They go back a couple times a year, to visit grandparents and friends, but they’ve never been gone too long, and rarely ever separate from each other.

“You’ll take a lot of pictures, right?” she asks eventually, when she’s satisfied that she’s looked through everything Laddy’s taking along.

He grins at her, zipping his bag shut. “Every chance I get,” he says.

;;

Mapquest says taking Lougheed is the shortest distance by over 75 miles, so that’s what they decide on, printing out three separate maps and bringing along the Mr. Eisenberg’s GPS. It’s maybe a little excessive, but Jesse has been known to regularly drive down one-ways in their own neighborhood; unleashing him wild on the masses would just be cruel.

It doesn’t take too long to get to the border crossing, a little over 30 miles, and even though Jesse’s been to the States regularly and Laddy never has, he’s definitely freaking out more. 

“Do I look like a responsible driver?” he asks for the twelfth time. They inch forward in traffic as he chews on his fingernails. “Oh god, what if they think I’m kidnapping you?” 

“I promise to be good, mister,” Laddy says, laughing. “I won’t tell them about—”

“Shut up,” Jesse wheezes, because he’s laughing, too. He seems okay, better, at least until the actual checkpoint is in sight. His squeezes his hands on the steering wheel and coughs out, “Okay, so. So. We have our stories straight, right? I’m Jesse and I’m driving through to go to school in New York, and you’re—you’re—”

“Andrew,” Laddy supplies, and tries not to laugh again. “Kidnapping victim and hockey casualty extraordinaire.”

Jesse breathes deep, but he’s definitely panicking again from the sound of it. “Why are we driving?” he asks, voice high and thin. “Why did we ever think _driving_ was a good idea?” 

Laddy tries to be as sympathetic as possible, but come on. They’ve had this conversation a thousand times and Jesse was pretty adamant about his desire to see more of the Midwestern parts of the US before dismissing them entirely. He’d even made a chart.

He drops his hand to Jesse’s elbow, squeezing once, before he says, “Can’t turn back now,” because of course there are cars queuing up behind them.

“Are you trying to make this worse?” Jesse asks, and when their eyes meet, his are wide and panicked. He’s practically sweating through his shirt and his hair is damp, curls sticking up around his head randomly.

Laddy blinks at him, and Jesse blinks back until the minivan in front of them moves half an inch, and they have to move too. 

“No,” he says carefully. He’s seen Jesse this stressed, definitely, but he’s never been the cause of it before. “We can probably go back.” 

They have tentative hotel reservations in the cities they’re slated to stop in, but nowhere that has last minute cancellation fees.

Jesse shakes his head but doesn’t actually say anything, just takes a huge gulp from his sugar free Red Bull and inches ahead. When they’re only one car away, he asks, “You still have the certified note from your parents, right?”

Laddy kind of wants to be a smartass, but he also doesn’t want Jesse to have an aneurysm, so he hands over the piece of paper his parents authorized with their lawyer; his passport, birth certificate and newly acquired learner’s permit, just in case.

It’s not nearly as bad as they’d been expecting, but it does take forever. The officers are brusque but not rude. All they really ask is, “Are you bringing any illegal substances into the country?” and both Laddy and Jesse answer no pretty adamantly.

They get in, driving straight through for about an hour before Jesse seems to let out the breath he’s holding. When he does speak, all he manages is, “I can’t believe that actually worked,” in a quiet voice, like it’s only just now hitting him that they did it, but also still have nearly 3000 more miles of travel time before they get where they’re going.

“You think we should do the Coke I snuck in now or later?” Laddy asks, and he’s not expecting Jesse to laugh, but the fact that he does is awesome.

;;

They haven’t stopped a lot, but Jesse also isn’t pushing himself behind the wheel, and they end up staying at most of their pre-booked hotels. There’s a lot of prairie land, a lot of greenery, and it’s different than what Laddy’s used to, but not different enough that there’s a marked change.

Jesse doesn’t have a lot of things he wants to see, but on the morning of the fourth day, he says, “Do you, um,” and, “I kind of want to see Falls Park? Is it okay if we do that?” He sounds nervous, like Laddy would ever actually say no.

“Sure,” Laddy agrees quickly just to get the look off Jesse’s face, even though he’s never even heard of Sioux Falls. “We’re sort of near the Badlands, yeah?” 

Jesse takes his time explaining that Mt. Rushmore and the Corn Palace are as touristy as Niagara Falls, if not worse. 

“I doubt they could be worse,” Laddy mutters. He’s only been a couple of times, both with Jesse’s family and his own, and it wasn’t all that great. The Maid of the Mist had been cool, although Jesse had been pretty sick during the ride.

Falls Park is about an hour out of their way, and different than Laddy had expected it would be, even though he hadn’t been expecting much at all. The land is flat, the air damp with humidity and heat, but it gets cooler the further they walk. There’s not really much around, but Laddy takes a bunch of artsy shots anyway, snapping pictures of water coursing down rocks and sending them to Hallie Kate.

“Are you really texting my sister?” Jesse asks, slathering lotion on his nose and cheeks again. He’s already starting to freckle, even though he’s wearing about a pound of sunscreen and his old Indiana ball cap. “She’s nine. I still can’t believe they gave her a cell phone.”

“And other people,” Laddy says. Steeger mentioned wanting to see some of the sights up close and personal. “Besides, it’s not like it’s an iPhone or anything. Your parents gave her Kerri’s old Blackberry and she can only use it get in touch with family. She can’t even go on the internet. Your mom told me.” 

“She’s _nine_ ,” Jesse stresses. “I didn’t have a cell phone when I was nine.”

Laddy shrugs. “And also dinosaurs roamed the earth,” he says. Jesse tries to swat at him, but he moves away too quickly. “She misses you,” he adds, because it has the added benefit of being true.

Jesse’s neck flushes and it has nothing to do with the sun. “I wanted to see that I could do it,” he says eventually. “I didn’t want to, like, escape you all or something.”

“I know, bud,” Laddy says quickly, ignoring the twinge in his shoulder when he half-tackles Jesse into a hug. “You’re gonna kick some American ass.”

Jesse snorts, starting to say something, but they come up to the falls, then, and he can’t hear much of anything beyond but the rushing of the water.

;;

They get stuck in Chicago on day six because Laddy gets a violent case of food poisoning. He’s cranky and irritable and Jesse putters around the room for most of the morning until he groans, “if you don’t get out of here in thirty seconds, I’m punching you in the face, swear to god.”

“Like you even could right now,” Jesse says, smirking a little. “I can’t just leave you, though.” 

He’s wringing his hands, his fingernails a bitten, rigid pink. Laddy slinks down the bed, feeling useless. He can’t even sit up for long enough to have this conversation.

“You wanted to go to the art museum, right?” he asks a while later, and Jesse shrugs, but yes, obviously he had. He only mentioned it twenty times. Laddy would roll his eyes if he were feeling less like shit. “Go do that. Maybe when you come back, I’ll stop puking long enough for us to walk around Wrigleyville.” 

Jesse frowns, and Laddy knows what’s coming even before he says it, “you don’t want to go to the United Center?” 

He’s not the biggest fan of sports, but befriend a hockey player for years and you learn the most important parts, even if you’re not actively paying attention. Laddy’s wanted to play at the UC since he learned how to skate, it's not news.

“I can live without it,” Laddy says, and tries for a smile. He’s not fooling anybody, but Jesse lets it pass, patting at his leg without further argument and heading out. 

It’s weird, being in the room by himself, so Laddy turns the TV on for background noise and tries to doze until his stomach starts rebelling again. It’s pretty miserable, but he manages to fall asleep without throwing up more than once, so he’s counting it as a success.

His mom calls around four, but he lets it go to voicemail. He’d texted her to let her know he’d caught some sort of stomach bug, and he’s sure Jesse’s done the same and more. His dad calls a little later, but Laddy only answers when it’s Mike on the third go around, closing his eyes as he presses the phone to his ear and grits out, “what?” not even bothering to be polite.

Mike chuckles on his end, managing to sound like an even bigger douche with a couple teeth missing. 

“Just checking you’re still alive, little bro,” he says, and Laddy can hear him chewing on his end. He’s thrown up all the contents of his stomach and then some over the past few hours, but he doesn’t even want to think about food yet if he can help it. “Mom says you’re sick?”

Laddy smashes his face against his pillow. “Just some food poisoning, I think. I don’t know. I’m trying to sleep it off, but some people keep calling and bugging me.”

“Where are you now?” Mike asks. There’s no way he doesn’t know, no way Mom hasn’t told him and the two of them aren’t trying to make Laddy do something he really doesn’t want to.

“Is Jesse in on this too?” he asks instead, propping himself up and really looking around the room for the first time. “Like he’s ever even watched a Hawks game in his life.”

Mike clears his throat, and then burps over the line, because he’s an asshole. “You should go,” he says, instead of answering Laddy’s very legitimate question. “When’s the next time you’re going to be in Chicago, bud? Don’t miss out.”

“I think we’re going to try and swing the Architecture Foundation tour instead,” he says, rolling a little toward the bedside table and reading the first thing he sees from Jesse’s printout of the Top Ten ‘off-the-beaten-path’ Places To Go in Chicago. “It sounds illuminating.”

“It sounds like you’re talking out of your ass.” 

Mike’s not wrong, but Laddy’s shoulder hurts and his stomach is itchy and the last thing he wants to do is be reminded of all the awesome things he could have been able to accomplish if things had turned out different. He doesn’t say it, and Mike doesn’t either. 

“Rest up, little brother,” is what he goes for instead, and they hang up without formal goodbyes.

Jesse‘s back about an hour later, and after Laddy showers and gets changed, they go to Portillo’s, even though Jesse protests and worries about him loudly the whole way over. 

“I’ll be fine,” Laddy says, but he orders water instead of the Coke he’d usually go for. “How was the museum?” he asks, taking a tentative bite of his dog when they're served and checking to see how his stomach is handling it. So far so good.

“Amazing,” Jesse says, launching into a description. Laddy only mostly gets every other word, but there’s still not any other place he’d rather be.

;;

They get to New York mid-morning of the ninth day. There’s a stretch of highway between Pennsylvania and New Jersey that took them 365 miles to get through, according to the map. They’ve done a lot of driving, but that stretch was probably the worst of it. He mentions it once or twice or fifty times while Jesse navigates through morning traffic and tries to find the parking garage they'd looked up closest to the school.

“What are you even going to do with the car in this city, dude?” he asks, stretching his arms out above his head and wishing he could do the same for his legs. His shoulder is a little stiff, but it’s nothing he can’t handle.

They find the place, eventually, both taking pictures of the sign with their phones and writing it down in Jesse’s little travel journal. Laddy had laughed at him for it, initially, but it’s actually been really helpful, not that he’s planning on sharing that information anytime soon.

Jesse doesn’t have a lot of stuff, thank god, just a duffel and his suitcase. Laddy’s own duffel is built to swing comfortably across his back like a sling, and even though it makes his shoulder twinge, they manage it, each carrying their own stuff and heading in what Jesse swears is the right direction.

It’s not, but they find their way easily enough, and despite what Laddy’s heard about New Yorkers, almost everyone they stop to talk to is helpful.

“Hey,” someone from behind him says. Laddy doesn’t know a single person in the city except for Jesse, so he keeps on going until the voice says, “no, seriously, hey. Tall guy. Sports-type sweatshirt. I have a proposition for you.”

Laddy stops, turning around to face a thin girl with dark red hair. “Uh,” he says.

“Do you have a few free minutes of time?” she asks. “I’m trying to cast this short film and you look.” She pauses a second, openly assessing him and Laddy doesn’t want to start blushing but that's what happens. “You look like you could really fit. It’ll only take little bit of your time.”

There’s a lanky guy next to her, hair going even crazier than Jesse’s on a bad day and he says, “Lies,” with a grin. “It will definitely take more than a few minutes of your time, but I can promise it’s worth it.” 

His accent is weird, Laddy thinks, sort of British, but dulled by something else. He can’t really tell. 

“I’m, uh, good,” Laddy says, like the fact that he’s lugging stuff through a dorm isn’t enough of an indication of how busy he is at the moment. When the accented dude and the girl keep looking at him, he inclines his head toward Jesse. “Also kind of involved with something.”

The guy’s demeanor changes almost immediately, he smiles wider, straightening up and says, “Can I help at all? Ems can wait, can’t you, babe?”

The girl shrugs, but she’s still smiling, which is definitely for the best. 

“I mean, sure, _babe_ ,” she says, “it’s just my education on the line, and my future, but what does that matter in the face of helping some strangers?” 

“I, uh,” Laddy repeats, stumbling a step. He’s never been as good on his feet as he was on skates, and even though it’s been half a year, he still hasn’t been able to shake that feeling. “I’m sorry?”

Ems, or—“Emma,” she says, introducing herself. “Totally fucking with you, sorry.” She grins and it’s nice, bright and with all her teeth. “I just can’t help it. The freshman are so cute. And ...gullible, one might say.”

“One might,” the guy says, rolling his eyes. “You remember that you’re a fresher as well, don’t you?” he adds. He says it nice, though, good-natured, like they have these kinds of squabbles all the time.

Jesse’s turned around; staring at the three of them, looking a little surprised, so Laddy says, “I’m actually not a freshman.” 

“Oh?” Emma asks, tucking her hair behind her ear. She has freckles everywhere, he notices, even on the side of her hand.

Laddy shrugs, tugging Jesse forward. “This kid right here,” he says, “he’s your freshman.” He smiles, poking Jesse in the side until he smiles too. 

“Right,” he starts. “Jesse. Eisenberg. Is me.” Laddy tries not to laugh, and he’s mostly successful until their eyes meet. He loses it, but then Jesse does too, the awkwardness of the moment lost in how hard they’re giggling.

Emma and the guy with the hair are still there when he straightens himself up again, and the guy is practically shaking in excitement over something. 

“I’m Andrew,” he says, all big eyes and smiles and genuine excitement. “Hello.” Jesse looks surprised, but he hides it by repeating the greeting. “Oh, sorry,” Andrew says after a second where Jesse doesn’t seem to be tapping into the frequency of his excitement. “Garfield,” he adds, and then a flicker of recognition passes over Jesse’s face. “Your roommate?” 

Jesse looks excited when Laddy peeks over at him, seeming to relax in increments. If Andrew’s a serial killer, he’s certainly a friendly one.

The four of them migrate up to Andrew and Jesse’s room, which is small, smaller than Laddy’s room at home, even, and he bunks alone. There are two singles on either side of the room, and two desks. With the chairs pulled out, he imagines there’s barely any space between them at all, but doesn’t say as much, just drops his duffel on the floor by what looks to be the unoccupied bed and starts to search through it for his ice pack and pain meds.

“Is it okay if I put this in the mini fridge for a few minutes?” he asks, already wrapping it in wax paper and getting ready to tug the door open.

“Are you hurt?” Emma asks, dropping to the floor next to him and smiling. She’s pretty, but Laddy can’t really focus on her. The pain in his shoulder is a dull ache, but he knows from experience that it’ll get worse the longer he goes without icing it. 

“Old hockey injury,” he says, smiling as politely as possible while still waiting for the go-ahead from either of the two people that actually live in this room. “I’m fine.”

Andrew notices that he’s staring, probably, but it still takes him a few seconds to say, “Oh, yes, sure. Please, go ahead.” He leans back on his heels, still standing, and adds, “What’s mine is Jesse’s, and of course that extends to his friends.” 

“Thanks,” Laddy offers, trying to smile back. His stomach kind of hurts, but he’s been able to ignore it for the most part. “Um, hey, Jess, do you mind if I grab some quick Zzs?” he asks. Jesse looks immediately concerned, of course, but Laddy waves him off. He really is tired, and the concept of getting to sleep for an uninterrupted amount of time sounds amazing.

“Is your shoulder acting up again?” Jesse asks. “Your arm? Is it your stomach? Your mom said to call her if any of the injuries flared up, and I’ve had Dr. Jennings’ number on my phone since the accident, if you want to—”

Laddy doesn’t resist the urge to roll his eyes. “Jess!” he says, kind of embarrassed despite himself. “I’m fine. Lugging that duffel over a couple miles just made my shoulder hurt a little.” Jesse’s face does the same thing it always does when he thinks about Laddy being hurt, and that’s nice, but it’s also unnecessary. He already has his phone out, probably getting ready to call Laddy’s mom. “I just need some sleep.”

Andrew meets Laddy’s eyes across the room and says, “Why don’t I show you around, hey? Let your friend get some rest.”

Belatedly, Laddy says, “oh, right. I’m an Andrew too, sorry,” before Jesse can ask him if he’s going to be sick again. There’s not a lot left over, but he still has some pride. “Everybody usually just calls me Laddy, though.”

Andrew grins, leaning down and holding his hand out for a shake. “Excuse my manners,” he says. “I should’ve asked earlier.”

Laddy shrugs. “You’re fine,” he says, but they shake anyway, even though it’s strange to do so in such close quarters. “It’s nice to officially meet you?” 

He doesn’t mean for it to come out like a question, but the fact that he said it at all should count for something. His mom would be proud. He doesn’t burst out laughing, which probably goes a long way, too.

“Yes,” Andrew says, mouth twitching, “of course.” He’s still crouched over Andrew, and Emma has to poke him in the side to get him to move. “Is it a family name?”

“What?”

Andrew clears his throat, still crouching. “Laddy?”

Laddy can’t actually see Jesse rolling his eyes, but he can imagine it. “It’s a hockey thing, sort of,” he says. “My last name is Ladd, so.”

“Ah,” Andrew says. It takes a long time for him to move, even when Emma pokes him in the side again.

She scoots closer to Laddy and says, “I’m going to hang out here for a few minutes, if that’s okay with you guys.” She smiles and even though she’s not looking at him, Laddy finds himself smiling back. “Jesse, have you ever been to Central Park?”

Jesse blinks at her. “I,” he says intelligently. “Probably I was little?”

“Andrew and I—” she peeks over at Laddy and tips her head toward him, like they’re sharing a secret. “It’s good you have a nickname already. It would’ve been really lame to call one of you ‘Other Andrew’.” She squints between the two of them. “Which one would it be, do you think?”

Laddy laughs. He can’t really help it, even though it makes his shoulder ache. “I think it depends on who you’ve known longer, I guess.”

“Do you ever go by Andy?” she asks. “That Andrew doesn’t.”

It’s definitely the weirdest conversation Laddy’s ever been involved in. He wonders if all of college will be like this. “I had an uncle once,” Andrew says.

Laddy can’t help himself, he says, “just once?” and it’s quiet for a second, but everyone laughs, which is a bigger relief than he would have expected.

Andrew smiles at him. “More than once, but not quite often?” he’s still chuckling a little. It’s nice. “He tried to call me Andy when I was a child, but it never stuck.”

Emma snorts, “Yes, I can imagine all the lords and ladies of the manor being thrilled to chase after a rogue three year old while yelling ‘Andy’ at the top of their lungs. That would’ve been very civilized.”

Andrew laughs again, but it looks like he’s blushing, too. British, then. Laddy was right. “Something like that,” he says.

“Andrew—” Jesse says, and they both turn to look at him. He rolls his eyes. “ _My_ Andrew—”

Laddy prides himself on taking these moments whenever they’re handed to him, and he scoots closer to Jesse, wraps his hand over Jesse’s knee and says, “Jess, I didn’t know you cared,” fluttering his lashes as much as he can from this position.

“Fuck off,” Jesse says, but he’s laughing. “What I meant to say was that that Andrew,” he pauses to gesture, like anyone would be confused, “doesn’t like being called Andy, either. Mike always tries, but he’s hated it as long as I’ve known him.”

“Too many y’s,” Andrew says, shrugging, even though it’s obviously not true.

Emma smiles at him, bumping their shoulders together when he crawls back. “Andrew,” she says, and Jesse’s roommate frowns slightly, but turns toward her, brows raised. “You should really show Jesse around. I’ll hang out with this Andrew—Laddy?”

“Laddy,” he confirms.

“I’m gonna hang out with Laddy for a few. I have that goodbye dinner with my mom later on tonight anyway.”

Andrew frowns more deeply. “Do you still want me to come?” he asks, obviously ready to drop his own plans if she needs him around.

“I’d rather you show your new roommate our fair city while I help his friend with his ice pack and then go make myself pretty.”

“You’re already pretty,” Laddy blurts, and then feels his whole face go hot. Emma blinks at him and then very carefully chews on the corner of her lip to keep from laughing. Laddy knows that look. His mom looks at him like that all the time.

Emma curls her hand over his arm, and then turns to Andrew and Jesse, hand clutched over that. “You hear that, you guys? He thinks I’m pretty.”

“And now I hate you,” Laddy mutters under his breath, but everybody laughs again, so it’s mostly okay.

“No seriously, though, roomies,” Emma says, “get out of here.” Unsurprisingly, they do. “So,” she says, when she and Laddy are alone and she’s watching him ice his shoulder. “How long have you been together?”

Laddy feels his face go red and pale all in the same moment, even though he knows that’s not really possible. “Uh,” he says, scratching at his neck. “We’re not?” 

Having an inappropriate crush on your best friend in grade eight is much different than dating him. He never mentioned it and if Jesse noticed, he never brought it up.

“So all your friends have your parents and your doctor on speed dial? I must be missing out.” She ducks her head when Laddy doesn’t respond in the affirmative, embarrassed. “I’m sorry. I know it’s none of my business. It’s cute, though! And it must be hard on you, him going to school so far away.”

Laddy feels his throat closing up from dust and nerves, the pain in his shoulder steadily getting worse, the way it always does when his muscles coil this tightly.

“Listen,” he says, and he tries to sound calm. “I love Jess? But I haven’t actually felt,” he makes a motion with his hands that he hopes looks something like _extra feelings_ , “since I was about thirteen. Sorry.”

“Shit,” Emma says, swearing even worse under her breath. “I am so sorry for insinuating that.”

“No big deal,” he says. “It would make it a lot easier for me if you didn’t mention it, though.”

“You never told him?”

“I was thirteen. I’m pretty sure I had a crush on everything that moved,” he says, moving to get his pain meds from the front pocket of his bag. “Animals not included, obviously.”

“Good. I was getting worried for my dog there, for a second.” She pulls a face. “I, um. I would have never,” she starts, and then looks embarrassed all over again. “You just seem very in sync.”

Laddy shrugs. “Best friends,” he says.

;;

It’s a nice couple of days in New York. Laddy likes the city, can see why Jesse wanted to return, and he uses a ridiculous amount of his spending money getting gifts for everybody back home.

“You’re coming back, though, aren’t you?” Jesse asks as they walk out of the Dean & Deluca Laddy made them duck into so he could get a mug for his mom. She watched a show when he was a kid that was based largely around it, so he’s pretty sure she’ll get a kick out of it. “You could have saved some of it for then.”

“Maybe,” Laddy concedes, “but, like. They’ll want to feel like they were here too. Involved, you know?”

Jesse doesn’t disagree. They’ve both been checking in with their families regularly, but Laddy’s noticed that Jesse doesn’t call as much. He’s probably just getting himself steeled for the separation, but it’s still a weird thing to pick up on. His parents and the Eisenbergs have been pretty good about giving them their space on this trip, but he knows they must be worrying, Hallie Kate especially.

“You ready?” Laddy asks the night before he’s set to leave. Supposedly he’s on the floor trying to fit everything in his duffel, but he stopped working on it about an hour ago, and they’ve mostly been shooting the shit while waiting for Andrew to get back from his dinner with Emma.

There’s a low grade blush spreading across Jesse’s nose and cheeks, but Laddy doesn’t ask, just winds and unwinds his gauze and waits for him to find the right words. 

“No,” he says eventually, but he doesn’t look away, meeting Laddy’s gaze head on. “Not really. It’s all. It’s very different.”

“It doesn’t seem too bad, though,” Laddy says, and scoots over to where Jesse’s sitting to knock his fist against his knee. “And hey! You made friends already. Mama E’s gonna be so proud.”

Jesse shrugs. “It won’t be the same, though,” and Laddy knows it won’t, but he’s looking on the positive. It also won’t be terrible.

“At least no one thinks you’re the weird dude in cabin nine who won’t stop crying long enough to leave your room,” he offers. He remembers the trauma of drama camp, even if it’s not something they talk about regularly. 

Jesse laughs, and the sound is rough, involuntary, but it’s not so bad. He knocks his hand against Laddy’s head and mumbles, “I just wish you could stay.”

“Me too, bud,” Laddy says. 

;;

He’s done packing by 1am and thinks about waiting up for Andrew or Emma, but he still doesn’t know them, really, and Jesse’s conked out, street clothes and sneakers still on and probably getting his bedspread filthy. 

Laddy’s shoulder hasn’t acted up much since their first day in New York, even though he’s been camped out on the floor for the better part of four days, but he wakes up a few hours later and the sharp stiffness he feels almost immediately is just more proof that the injury never really went away. He groans to himself, getting to his feet and pawing around for Jesse’s room key before tugging up his sweats and heading out.

There’s a communal bathroom a floor up with a row of urinals and an unsurprisingly sticky floor. The nicer bathroom, though, has just the one stall, and it’s right down the hall from Jesse and Andrew’s room. It’s occupied when Laddy gets there, of course, so he just bangs his fist against the door once, and then leans against the wall and waits. He should probably just take a pill dry and try to fall back to sleep, but he’d rather splash water on his face and assess the damage before just downing some painkillers.

He hears the toilet flush, but the person inside still takes a couple minutes to get their shit together, and Laddy uses the wall to slide to the floor, banging on the door again, a little more loudly this time. It’s 4 in the morning, what the fuck.

The door opens, finally, and he repeats himself out loud only to see the Andrew looking down at him with crazier hair than usual and wide eyes. “Uh,” Laddy says, squinting at him. “Sorry, man.”

Andrew shakes his head and gestures behind him. “No, I’m sorry,” he says, and then reaches out his hand, like he’s going to help Laddy to his feet. Laddy’s fine, though, doesn’t need the help. He’s moving okay on his own. He must wince, though, something, because Andrew says, “are you alright? Is it your shoulder again?”

Laddy thinks about lying, but there’s really no point. “Yeah,” he says. He tries to shrug, but it hurts too much. “I fucked it up pretty bad when I got hurt.”

“Do you mind my asking?” Andrew asks and then laughs a little before he adds, “I guess I did just ask, though, didn’t I? Sorry.”

Laddy shrugs. They haven’t really spent a lot of time alone, mostly because he’s been avoiding it, but Andrew’s basically harmless. Jesse could probably do a lot worse in a roommate, and he comes packaged with Emma, who is actually pretty cool.

“My appendix exploded on the ice last winter,” he says, trying to sound casual about it. 

Andrew’s eyes go satisfyingly wide with surprise. “On the ice?” he asks, voice hushed. His accent is clipped. “While you were skating, you mean?”

“On the ice, yeah,” Laddy confirms. “During practice. I don’t really remember much, but I fell. Tore a tendon in my shoulder and shattered a couple of the bones in my arm. I can’t even play now.” 

Andrew blinks in surprise. "At all?" 

Laddy shakes his head. He doesn't really want to talk about it. 

“I don’t know a lot about hockey,” Andrew says, making an apologetic face, “but I can imagine that not being able to play anymore is incredibly inconvenient.”

“Not now, anyway,” Laddy says. Andrew looks like he’s waiting for more of an answer. “It’s all about the pain threshold.” 

Andrew is mostly standing still, but Laddy’s close enough that he can see the effort it’s taking not to sway back and forth. He must be really wasted. 

“The pain threshold,” he repeats. He pinches his arm like it might be comparable and makes a face because it obviously hurts.

“Yeah,” he says eventually. “At first I couldn’t play because of the stitches in my stomach, then I couldn’t play because my arm was still a fucking mess.” He takes a deep breath, steeling himself. “Now I can’t play because of my shoulder. Or, well.” 

It’s more complicated than that, but sitting in a hallway in the small hours and discussing the finer points of his body’s deterioration definitely isn’t how he wanted to spend the rest of his night. 

“I could probably get back on the ice, now,” he says. “If I really wanted to, I don’t think Dr. Jennings would stop me.”

“Don’t you want to?” Andrew asks. It seems like a pretty innocent question, but Laddy laughs at him anyway, his voice harsh and bitter in this way that neither of them really deserve. It’s too fucking late to be this serious.

Laddy rubs at his face. He hates talking about this. 

“It hurts too much,” he mutters, eyes closed. “I get out there and I try it and it hurts way too fucking much. I can barely even stand right, let alone skate.”

“That’s terrible,” Andrew says. He’s definitely wavering now, listing gently from side to side. He looks about three minutes from falling over.

“Yeah,” Laddy says. shrugging. “Yeah, you could say that and not be wrong.” 

They’re quiet for a little while, but it’s not an awkward kind of silence, just a tired one. “I should get back to the room,” Andrew says, and moves to step around where Laddy’s pushed himself back to his feet. 

The elevator dings on the other end of the hallway, and they both turn to look, but it's empty. Laddy’s thrown off, equilibrium messed up from the hollowness in his arm and shoulder and he trips a little; on his feet, on nothing at all, and Andrew ends up steadying him as much as the wall does.

“Easy there,” he says, fingers curved over the bone of Laddy’s good shoulder. “Are you alright?” 

Laddy blinks at him. “Sure.” 

They’re both breathing hard. Andrew lurches forward, mumbling, “do you, ah.” He smells like beer, the scent of it clinging to his hands, his fingernails. He must have spilled or something and his hand is pressed to Laddy’s shoulder, thumb rubbing circles over the loose neck of Laddy’s faded Express t-shirt.

“Do I, what?” Laddy asks, breathing sharply.

Andrew flicks his tongue over his lips. “Can I kiss you?”

“Can you—” Laddy coughs the words out, more surprised than anything. “What?” Andrew must not hear him because he’s leaning forward, moving his hand from Laddy’s shoulder to his neck, then to his cheek. He squeezes his fingers slightly before leaning in and fitting their mouths together.

It’s obviously a drunk kiss. Andrew’s wasted and tastes like it, smoky and vaguely tinny, like he’s been chewing on a cut. Laddy’s familiar enough with the taste of blood in his mouth to recognize it, arching up and trying to get his arms around Andrew’s neck.

His shoulder screams in protest; an achy, ragged pain that may start in that general area, but snakes out everywhere. He has to pull away because it hurts so much.

“Andrew?” Andrew asks. “Laddy?” 

He presses close to where Laddy’s bent in half, breathing hard for a totally different reason, palms pressed to his knees to try and get his heartbeat back down to normal. Even his fingers are tingling with pain. 

“Are you alright?” he asks.

Laddy blinks the moisture away from his eyes and grits out, “Shoulder, so. Fine as I’ll ever be, I guess.” 

It makes it easier, not looking at Andrew. Laddy keeps his eyes closed, head tipped down, focusing on his breathing exercises. 

“Can I do anything for you?” Andrew asks, because he’s a nice guy, even if he is wasted enough to kiss a virtual stranger in the middle of a hall, in the middle of the night.

Laddy grits his teeth. 

“I just need to take a piss,” he says evenly, when he’s finally breathing right again. He looks up and tries to smile, but it’s probably not working too well, because Andrew doesn’t smile back. 

“Right,” Andrew says, and his voice sounds tight and strangled. “Goodnight then.”

“Yeah,” Laddy grunts. “Night.” 

Andrew doesn’t waste time crossing the hallway and going into his room.

;;

Laddy isn’t exclusively into dudes or anything. He’s only made out with a few guys at parties. He’s had sex, he’s given head, too, he’s not _new_ , but he’s never—he’s never really kissed another dude, not like that. Not sober and where anyone could see if they were looking.

He doesn’t mention it to Jesse in the morning, just follows him down to the caf, because that’s where the coffee lives, and then proceeds to drink half his weight in the stuff, downing it black and trying to remember how it feels to live without near-constant pain in his shoulder.

“It really hurts, huh?” Jesse asks, because they’ve been friends for years, and he can always tell when Laddy’s trying to pull something over on him.

Laddy shrugs, but the motion hurts way more than he expects it to. 

“Fuck,” he grits out, closing his eyes. “Yeah.” There’s no point in lying about it. “It hurts like a motherfucker, Jess.”

Jesse nods once, and then reaches across and squeezes his wrist. It’s just once, but it’s nice, a comfort. Laddy drops his head to the tabletop and groans. There’s no way being on a plane for five hours is going to be pleasant. He’s always been too big for airplane seats, even in his best shape, and he’s kept up with as much exercise as he can stand, but he’s still put on a few pounds. It’s going to suck. He repeats the sentiment a few times, groaning again.

“Couldn’t you have gone to VADA like every other Canadian looking for their big break?” he whines, even though he and Jesse have talked this through at least a hundred times.

“Maybe,” Jesse says. “But it wouldn’t have been the same.”

Laddy definitely can’t argue with that. Instead, he says, “you’re definitely gonna blow all these Americans out of the water, for sure.”

Behind him, someone clears his throat, and Laddy’s almost ready for it when Andrew says, “I was born in Los Angeles, but primarily raised in England. Do I count as one of those blown away Americans, or am I exempt?”

Laddy doesn’t look at him, just says, “definitely not exempt. You’re on notice, bud,” and pillows his head against his arms so they don’t have to look at each other. 

Andrew ruins that plan by swinging onto the bench right next to him. He he doesn’t sit inappropriately close or touch Laddy or anything, though, so that’s something for the plus column. 

“Can I get either of you anything?” he asks, as polite as ever.

“I’m all set,” Jesse says, “but you should get Andrew an IV drip, maybe? That’s his fifth cup of coffee and he’s still not really awake.”

Laddy flips him off, but he’s not sure how effective it is if he can’t even move his arms properly. 

“That much of a dependence?” Andrew asks mildly, and Laddy rolls his head enough to glare at him. He looks normal, if a little rumpled. He shifts, chewing on his mouth a little, and Laddy’s stomach burns with something that might’ve been attraction if he was in less pain.

“Just stick it in me,” he says, and then holds his uninjured arm out, like he’s waiting to be injected. Andrew laughs, which is also a plus, but he also doesn’t look like he’ll be moving anytime soon. “What are you waiting for, bud? While I’m still young, maybe?”

Andrew gets to his feet finally, grinning at both of them. “Let me get this straight,” he says, “a big nothing for Jess and some ...tea for young Ladd?”

Laddy kicks his foot out, missing Andrew by a mile but managing to scrape his toe against the metal detailing on the underside of the table. 

“Motherfucker,” he curses, and then, “you get me tea and you’re a dead man.”

Jesse hums. “Maybe that’s not such a bad idea, though?” 

He sounds anxious in a way he only ever is over Laddy. His voice has a particular tenor, and the higher it gets, the guiltier Laddy feels. It’s a sick, manipulative tool and Laddy would hate him for it except for how Jesse doesn’t even do it on purpose. 

“Your mom made you a lot of tea right after the accident and it helped,” he says. “I remember.”

“I was _dehydrated_ ,” he says. “Any liquid would have helped.” He squints over at Andrew and shifts a little so he can get at his wallet. “Coffee,” he says. “The extra-large, please. Black.” He tries to hand Andrew a crumpled wad of bills, but Andrew shoves his hand away.

“Black?” Andrew asks. “Really?”

Jesse makes an agreeing noise on the other side of the table, because in a past life and occasionally in this one, he mother hens with the best of them. “It’s so terrible for him, right? Mr. Ladd and I keep trying, but—”

“But I’m an adult that can make my own drink choices?” Laddy interrupts. He’s managed to sit up, mostly. The pain in his shoulder mostly at a dull roar now. It still hurts like hell, but he should be fine if he can ice it one more time before take off.

Jesse definitely rolls his eyes. “You’re _sixteen_ , it’s a miracle people let you cross the street by yourself.”

Andrew makes a high-pitched noise in his throat that cuts off anything Laddy would’ve said in response. Laddy feels his cheeks getting red. He rubs at his face and tries not to look at anyone too directly. 

“You’re sixteen?” Andrew asks, and to his credit, he doesn’t sound as strangled as Laddy expects him to.

“Yes,” Jesse answers. “And a pain in my ass.” 

Laddy kicks him under the table. It takes a lot of focus to time it right, but he uses up all his resources and manages to clip Jesse right in the ankle where his sweats have ridden up. 

“Um, _ow_ ,” Jesse grumbles, reaching down to rub where he’d been kicked. “I’m not going to miss you at all,” he says when he looks back up again, but he reaches out, even as he’s saying it, squeezing Laddy’s wrist again.

“Too bad you’re stuck with me,” Laddy responds, and then looks at Andrew again, trying to assess the damage.

He’s still chewing on his mouth, more forcefully now, and in an undertone, he says, “you really do not look sixteen. It’s kind of.” He stops abortively, squinting down at Laddy like he’s trying to imagine him differently. “I didn’t look anything like you when I was your age.”

Laddy rolls his eyes. “Because it was so long ago? Please.”

“Aren’t high schoolers supposed to be shrimpier? I definitely had noodles for arms and a pocket protector.” 

“Hockey player,” Jesse says, before Laddy can question the validity of that statement. He takes another bite of his muesli and adds, “he could probably lift you with one hand if he weren’t broken.”

Laddy growls, “I’m not _broken_ ,” and realizes the conversation got away from him somewhere. “Please get me a cup of coffee,” he says, turning to Andrew and widening his eyes. “I’ll owe you, seriously.”

“Seriously?” Andrew mocks, but he’s smirking like he thinks it’s funny. Well, that’s good. Funny, Laddy can do. He’s no Steeger, but he does okay.

Laddy scoots closer down the bench, and whispers, “I’ll email you a list of the numerous and various ways this kid can be messed with.” He inclines his head toward Jesse, who’s rolling eyes and tugging at his hair.

“You wouldn’t,” Jesse says, but he’s smiling too. 

Laddy kicks him at him again but misses. “Would too,” he says, and then smiles as brightly at Andrew as the pain in his shoulder will permit him.

;;

The flight back home is terrible. It’s only supposed to be four hours and some change, but they get stuck on the runway at LaGuardia, and Laddy’s forced to watch the same flight safety video about eighty times in a row because he didn’t bring a book or his laptop. 

The guy traveling with the baby beside him says, “I’d like to apologize ahead of time,” and sort of smiles. “She really freaks out during takeoff.” 

He explains that it has to do with sensitive baby ears or something, and Laddy tells him it’s fine, it’s cool—he’s slept through worse. 

She starts to scream when they finally get off the ground, going red all over and pounding her tiny little baby fists everywhere. Laddy tries to fall asleep, but his shoulder is still hurting and leaning that elbow against his armrest seems to be the worst idea he’s ever had.

They can’t get into Vancouver International fast enough, and even though the plane takes its time taxiing, Laddy’s still relieved. He just has his duffel, and even with all his added purchases, he managed to fit it on the overhead compartment, so he won’t have to wait for checked bags. He’s not dumb enough to sling it over his shoulder when they’re finally cleared to exit, so he holds onto it with his dominant hand and nods to the guy with the still crying baby. 

She’d fallen asleep somewhere over the northeast, but she’s whimpering against his chest now, and Laddy says, “uh, good luck. She’s really got a set of pipes on her, eh?”

The guy is young, can’t be too far into his twenties, and he laughs a little, brushing hair out of his face as he thanks Laddy and waves him off. It’s not like it’s a big deal or anything, but he’d definitely checked out that guy’s ass when he’d reached up to grab his own things from the overhead bin, so. That’s sort of new.

He’s done his best not to think about kissing Andrew, and that lasts through getting past Customs and security and goes all the way up until he sees Mike and Joshua waiting for him outside of the arrivals gate. Josh is still young enough to be excited about being at the airport and he has a sign that he’s holding up, waving it like crazy.

Laddy has to laugh when he sees them and he’s still smiling when Mike tugs him in for a hug. His shoulder burns, but it’s nothing compared to how it was last night. Or this morning. Or whatever time of day it had been when Jesse’s roommate had kissed him in a hallway.

Mike must catch the look on his face, because he turns to Josh and says, “Pay up, little man,” holding his hand out, like their younger brother is actually going to cough up some serious dough. Laddy’s laughing again, even though he doesn’t even know what they’ve bet on yet.

“What?” he asks, and Josh hugs him around the middle, hanging on tight. It’s a little painful, but he’s warm and solid, so it’s not too bad. 

Mike checks him lightly, not putting any force or heat behind it, and Laddy has to shake Josh off because his whole body suddenly aches. He clenches his hands into fists to stave off the shivers, but he’s not successful enough, because Mike just raises his brows and says, “Hospital?”

“Hospital,” Laddy confirms, and lets Mike take his bag, even though he still kind of wants to fight for it.

Mike rolls his eyes, talking right over Laddy, like he hadn’t been on a tirade at all. “Chill out, okay? You’re walking like a bus hit you.”

“Yeah,” Josh says, from beside them, the smartass genes clearly running through him when he adds. “Maybe you should let Mike carry you, Andy.” 

;;

They go to the hospital. Laddy hears the same things from Dr. Jennings as he’s been hearing from his parents. Continuing his physical therapy and drinking lots of water seem to top the list.

“Also probably not walking around a whole city holding a heavy backpack, eh?” Mike asks, nudging against Laddy’s good side.

There’s no way to flip him off without their parents and Dr. Jennings noticing, but Laddy thinks about it, and judging by the smirk on Mike’s face, he can tell. Mike is an asshole.

“Got it. I’ll definitely remember to come to PT,” Laddy says, ignoring his brother and smiling as blandly as possible.

The last couple of weeks of summer are a lot of the same. Laddy gets up way after his parents and Josh, hangs out with either Seabs or Steeger, or both and babysits for HK whenever the Eisenbergs need a hand, even though she swears she’s too old for a babysitter.

“You are not,” he says the night before school starts, covering for a couple hours so Amy and Barry can get some supplies. There’s apparently a specialty store in Burnaby that caters exactly to her type of clown.

HK has been pouting a lot more since Laddy came back from New York, and this time is no different. She burrows into one of Jesse’s old Maple Ridge Theater hoodies and sulks on her end of the couch. 

“You’re only here because my parents made you,” she mutters about a half hour later, when they’re watching the second episode in an hour block of Aqua Team Hunger Force.

“You know that’s not true, bud,” Laddy says, ruffling her hair again, and she doesn’t magically get less cranky, but when he orders them pizza later, she smiles at him, so that counts for something.

It’s too early to put her to bed, especially since the elementary school doesn’t start classes until next week, but he doesn’t wake her up when she starts to nod off on the couch, even though there’s pizza sauce all over her face.

He texts Jesse: _hanging with your sis. bet my thurs night is better than yours._

Jesse hasn’t responded by the time Amy and Barry get home and try to pay Laddy, even though, for real, he’d hang out with HK for free. He hasn’t responded by the time Laddy goes to bed, or when he wakes up early enough for the sky to still be dark, because Seabsie and Steeger want to shopping for gear down in Delta.

Laddy’s in a cranky mood all day, and it’s not really their fucking faults, but standing awkwardly while they get fitted for new pads is possibly the most excruciating thing he’s had to deal with in the last year, and that includes surgery to remove his goddamn fucking appendix.

He stands outside the sporting goods shop and checks his messages, and even though there are texts there from his parents and his brothers, there’s nothing from Jesse.

After dinner, back at home, Mike says, “So, okay,” lying flat on Laddy’s bed and kicking his sneakers up against the wall. “Are you really surprised things are different now, Andy? He’s got classes and shit. There’s a whole fucking time difference.” He pauses, like this part is the best part. “He’s a man now, too. He’s doing real ‘grown up’ stuff.”

Laddy throws a pillow at him and says, “fuck you, ‘grown up stuff’. Like I don’t know what that means, asshole.”

“Hey, hey,” Mike says, holding his hands innocently. “I’m just saying, man. You said you made friends with a girl while you were out there? Eiseie’s probably hooking up.”

Laddy’s done his best not to think about New York City hookups or the potential for them, but his face gets hot just thinking about it. He makes himself busy digging out his backpack from of the random crap that’s piled up in his closet all summer.

“Fuck you,” Laddy says, still rooting through his closet. It isn’t his sharpest comeback, but it has to count for something.

Mike leans over, yanking a little at Laddy’s shorts so they start to slide down and he loses his balance a little. 

“You’re not jealous, are you?” he asks. He sounds weirdly serious, like he might actually be willing to sit up and have a conversation of Laddy needs a heart-to-heart.

Jesus Christ. 

“No,” he says and puts as much emphasis on it as he can manage.

“Because I’m here for you,” Mike offers. His face is actually twitching because he’s trying not to laugh so hard, though, so Laddy doesn’t even feel a little bad for punching him in the head. If he weren’t injured, they’d probably start wrestling or something. Mike flicks his knee instead and says, “stop being a little shit, little shit.”

“I haven’t had a crush on Jesse since I was _thirteen_ ,” Laddy stresses, feeling weird about the fact that it’s the second time he’s had to talk about it in as many weeks.

Mike holds up his hands like a peace offering. “I’m just saying. Sometimes it’s good to talk it out.”

Laddy punches him in the head again.

;;

Steeger’s waiting for him in the front yard a few mornings later. Laddy’s barely awake and he’s already refilled his travel mug twice, but even taking another sip doesn’t make things any less confusing.

“What,” Laddy mumbles, rubbing at his eyes with his free hand. Steeger isn’t an apparition and Laddy’s pretty sure his brain wouldn’t give him somebody so ugly to hallucinate over anyway.

“I know that look,” Steeger says, bumping their shoulders together when Laddy gets close enough.

He makes grabby hands for Laddy’s mug, but fuck that, he’s not sharing. “Go inside and get your own,” he says, downing another mouthful of scalding hot liquid and blinking his eyes a few times, adjusting to the light.

“You want me to go all the way back to my house, Laddy boy? That’s just cruel.” Steeger doesn’t look too surprised, though. Laddy’s always been possessive of his caffeine. 

“You do that and we’ll be late,” he says, flipping his sunglasses down over his eyes and leaning against the railing. “Just go inside and ask my mom for an extra mug. It’s not like we don’t have enough to go around.” 

Steeger laughs at him, but he does it, and he’s out a couple minutes later with one of Mike’s old mugs and a handful of cookies. 

“You sharing those?” Laddy asks once they’re on their way. 

“Didn’t see you sharing your coffee,” Steeger says, raising his brows over his shades. He bumps their shoulders together again and starts to hum something vaguely tuneless under his breath.

“Okay,” Laddy says. “I didn’t want to share mouth germs with you, Steeger. Those cookies—” 

He stuffs all of the cookies into his mouth. Steeger’s pretty much an asshole all of the time. 

He brushes the crumbs away from his face, but when he grins, his teeth are coated with masticated cookie bits. “I’m sorry,” he says, “what were you saying? I couldn’t hear you, I was chewing. I had all these cookies in my mouth.”

Laddy doesn’t punch him in the head, but he does think about it. They’re almost at the school, anyway. 

;;

Steeger’s waiting for him after he gets out of Chemistry lab, leaning against the third floor lockers and flicking through his schedule.

“What are you doing?” he asks, not even bothering to be polite about it. Steeger’s been like a shadow for most of the day, and they’ve always been buds, but this is an extra something special. “Jesse didn’t ask you—” It sounds crazy, even to him, but Jesse’s been known to do weirder things than bribe Laddy’s friends into following him around.

Steeger rolls his eyes. He flicks Laddy right in the ear when he gets close enough. 

“I’ve got a crush on you,” he croons, batting his eyelashes. Laddy elbows him in the stomach. It’s really his only option, considering it’s not like he could out run or out-wrestle anybody like this, let alone somebody who’s still training. “Laddy!” Steeger shouts, clutching at his stomach too hard for Laddy’s throw to have done much damage. “Stop! Stop running from me, Laddy! Let me love you, Laddy!” There aren’t a lot of people in the science corridor, but there are enough that they’re getting some looks.

He’s laughing too hard to really breathe right when he stops, bent in half with his palms pressing down hard against his knees. Steeger’s breathing even harder, though, skidding to a halt a couple of paces in front of him. 

“Hey,” he says, bumping his fist loosely against Laddy’s shoulder. “Seriously, bud. Let’s split. We’re upperclassmen now. We can leave campus for lunch and everything.”

The bell buzzes, and Laddy says, “yeah, why the fuck not?” before he can change his mind.

“Yes!” Steeger shouts, pulling victory arms right over his head like he just scored on the perfect pass. “This is gonna be our year, Laddy boy. I can feel it!”

;;

Within the first three months of school, he and Steeger start the Film Appreciation Club with Seabs and Keith, join the debate team and get their first official girlfriends. Sort of. Everybody in school knows Lacey Hellerman because she’s captain of the ladies’ basketball team and also because her dad is the school bursar. Laddy knows her because Jesse tutored her in physics last year. They get teamed up for one of the first projects of the year in Speech and Laddy’s surprised by how much he likes her, considering they’ve had class together for years and never really said much to each other at all. 

Steeger’s girlfriend is a quiet girl named Mindy that giggles more than she speaks and knows eight different languages, just because. Laddy’s known that kid a long time, and he’s never seen him so smitten. They’re kind of gross. If the constant make-outs weren’t enough, Steeger has a pet name for her before they’ve even been together a month. Laddy tries not to gag every time he’s around them, which is, unfortunately, a lot.

Lacey’s different. She’s almost as tall as he is, has legs that go on for eleven miles and sucks cock like she really enjoys it. Laddy’s definitely had sex before, but it wasn’t like this. She takes his shoulder limitations like a challenge and likes to go skinny dipping in Alouette lake, even in the middle of winter. She’s fun and she makes him laugh, and it’s not like having Jesse back, but it’s almost okay, because at least she remembers how awesome he is and lets Laddy talk about it sometimes. She’s an athlete, too, has gotten her fair share of scrapes and breaks and bruises and doesn’t mind him whining to her about his pills or his shoulder or how he still wakes up sometimes expecting to get on the ice.

It sounds a lot dumber than it is, although it’s pretty dumb, especially the Saturday before the winter formal when they’re at Lucy in Langley, and Laddy can’t stop thinking about how the last time he spent any real time in Langley, it was because he was playing hockey and the last time he played hockey, his appendix exploded.

“Andrew,” Lacey says, and the way she says it makes it sound like she’s said it at least once before. 

She’s not annoyed, exactly, and she softens up some when she gets a look at his face. 

“I know it sucks, bud,” she says, kissing him firmly on the mouth. “The sooner you help me pick out a dress, though, the sooner we can get out here, yeah?” 

She’s decked out in something long and flowing that has a deep neckline and a row of buttons that go halfway down the front. He’s a little distracted, staring down the neckline of her dress but she just laughs when she realizes he hasn’t been listening again, knocking their elbows together. 

“You like?” she asks. She pulls away and does a little spin. It’s a great dress. He’s pretty sure it’s green. Greeny blue. Maybe, uh. Teal?

“I don’t need to, like, have a discussion about pattern or anything, right?” Laddy asks.

She stares him deep in the eyes, fingers tipping down his chin so they’re looking right at each other. 

“Andrew,” she says, seriously, and he feels weird for a second, breath getting all caught up in his throat. She looks away from him, breaking into a fit of the giggles. It takes a minute for him to relax too, but he gets there. “I could not care less about the pattern of this thing.” 

She tugs on his arm, turning him around so they can look at their reflection in the mirror.

They look good together, especially when she tips her head down against his shoulder. 

“That’s good,” he says, because it’s true. “You look great,” he adds, because that’s true too.

;;

Lacey’s a senior, already accepted into UConn on a full ride basketball scholarship. She can’t stop smiling when she talks about it, and Laddy’s as excited for her as he possibly can be, but he doesn’t really ever stop thinking about the fact that she’s leaving too; that whatever they’re doing has an expiration date.

“Why are you going all the way to Connecticut?” he groans at the tail end of January, pressing his face against her stomach. He’s breathing hard, red faced from the exertion of sex and Lacey’s skin has a rosy glow to it, she’s shaking a little from coming, so at least he’s doing something right. They’ve been fucking around for long enough that he thinks he knows all of her secret places, maybe, or at least enough of them.

Lacey laughs at him, which feels weird from this angle, but he likes being close to her like this, when she’s open and welcoming and there are what feel like miles of bare skin for him to touch. 

“Hm,” she says. “It could have something to do with the words _free_ and _ride_.” She fits her palm to his cheek and says, “you’ll be fine, Laddy.” She drags him up by his good arm and kisses his cheek, his chin. “You can come see me when you visit Jesse in the fall.”

“Yeah,” Laddy says, trying not to think about how weird school year so far has been without Jesse around. They’d managed to finally figure out a rhythm in November, but it had been a weird couple of months before then. Laddy never wants to do it again, if he can help it.

They fly down to New York for the school break, even though Steeger and Mindy and Seabs and his boyfriend are all heading to Port Hardy for the week.

“We’re going to have the _best_ time,” she says when they land, and doesn’t let go of his hand until they get to Tisch and Laddy’s palms are sweating. He hasn’t seen Jesse in months and he hasn’t really planned on what he’d say to Andrew if they were ever face to face again.

To be honest, thinking about kissing that dude has pretty much taken a backseat to thinking about fucking his girlfriend, and Laddy’s been pretty good about ignoring Jesse’s roommate whenever he gets mentioned during their Skype dates.

It’s much harder to ignore him when he’s four feet away and has a haircut and is squinting at Laddy like they’ve never seen each other before.

“Hello,” Lacey says, breaking the silence first. “Andrew right? The roommate.” 

She grins up at him and holds her hand out, and it must be Laddy’s imagination, but it seems like it takes Andrew a few extra seconds to shake himself into motion.

When he does, he’s a blur of movement; grabbing hold of Lacey’s hand between both of his own and shaking heartily while also looking everywhere but where Laddy is standing a couple of feet behind them.

“And you must be Elizabeth,” he says. “Lacey?”

“Lacey,” she confirms, and then they’re heading into the building.

;;

It’s a good trip. A fine trip. Laddy gets to see more of New York, which is cool, and not a lot of Jesse, because he still has class most every day, but just getting to hang out with that dude in the flesh is better than only seeing him through his laptop screen.

“I can’t even tell you how excited I am to be living so close to the city,” Lacey says at dinner with his folks and Josh, a few nights after they get home. She’s gesturing with her salad fork, but her other hand is pressed firmly to Laddy’s knee, smoothing circles against his jeans like she can randomly sense that he needs the comfort.

His parents ask her if she’s heard anything else from school, about potential classes and conditioning camps. It’s not that Laddy didn’t know, or doesn’t want to hear, it’s that his girlfriend is leaving in four months. That seemed like a lot of time before going to New York, but it feels like way less now.

They do the dishes for his parents, because Lacey kind of insists, even though it’s Joshie’s night, and in when they’re alone in the kitchen, finally, Lacey says, “so, are we going to talk about it, or are you ever going to stop pretending you’re not pissed about something?”

To her credit, she doesn’t say _pissed at me_ , even though she could, even though that would probably get them over the potential of this fight quicker. 

“I’m,” he says, and he is pissed, but definitely not at her. “I just wish I didn’t like you so much.” 

If Steeger and Mindy had a wedding song picked out after their third date, then ‘I didn’t expect to like you this much’ is definitely Lacey and Laddy’s anthem. They should write a song. They’d make millions.

Her face crumples, because she’s a sap, but she still dries off her hands before she tugs him close, breathing heavy as she tucks her face against his shoulder. 

“I wish I hated you more, too,” she says, a variation which is swiftly becoming her favorite, because it makes him laugh.

“Wish I hated you more,” he says against her hair, and her arms tighten against his waist. She’s not crying, but he feels like she could be. Maybe they both could be, although Laddy hasn’t actually cried in years.

They finish up not too long after that and do homework in the parents-sanctioned living room, because even though his folks know they’re having sex, they’re still not allowed up in his bedroom with the door closed.

Lacey’s fine with it, unsurprisingly, just holds his hand over the table and squeezes their fingers together. 

In the cafeteria a few days later, she says, “I think I’d be more weirded out if they were actively approving of it,” but it comes out more like a question than anything else. 

“I mean,” he says, and feels his face going red. Seabs and Kaner have lunch during C block every other day and Steeger and Mindy are making the best of their lunch by sucking face at the other end of the table. “They’re like a train wreck,” he says, changing the subject and gesturing with his chin.

Steeger flips him off. He and Mindy don’t stop kissing.

“Have you ever actually seen a train wreck?” Lacey asks. She’s obviously torn between laughing and disapproving. It’s probably Laddy’s favorite of all her expressions.

“Yeah,” Laddy says. “I’m looking at one right now.” 

;;

They decide to skip going to Grad. Lacey walks with her classmates, but instead of going to the festivities after—they head to dinner with her dad, where Laddy tries not to feel too awkward about the fact that Mr. Hellerman cries openly throughout his entree, clinging to Lacey’s hand and whispering about how proud he is of her. Laddy can’t shake the feeling that he’s not welcome, but she keeps her hand on his thigh under the table for the whole meal, so that’s pretty great, especially since Mr. Hellerman is trying not to cry too much to notice.

They drop him off at home once dinner is over, and Laddy waits in the car as they hug in the driveway. Lacey’s eyes are a little more red-rimmed than usual when she slides back behind the wheel, but Laddy pretends not to notice. 

“So we have two options,” she says, when they’ve been driving for a while. Her dress is this shimmery, iridescent pink that looks different every time the street lights glance off it. She’s beautiful. There’s nowhere else he’d rather be. “But I think you’re going to go for what’s behind door number one.”

“Yeah?” he asks, reaching out to tangle their fingers together over the gearshift. “Lay it on me. I think I can handle it.”

“Oh, you do?” she asks, grinning over at him.

He should say yes. He should grin back at her and tell her how cool it feels to be dating a graduate. 

“I’m gonna miss you,” he says instead, and feels like a total asshole when her face falls. 

“Andrew,” she starts, but he cuts her off.

“No, no,” he says. “Don’t.” 

It’s just a little rough, is all. He can’t believe he’s going to have to say goodbye to somebody all over again so soon. This was a really stupid idea. He’s not equipped to losing people like this.

Lacey drives them to the lake and doesn’t say anything else, really, but she keeps a firm grip on Laddy’s knee, and only drops it when they park, shimmying out from the driver’s side to come around to his and dropping to a crouch. 

“Hey, hey,” she says, resting her palms against his thighs. “You’ll be fine, bud. I promise.”

She has a blanket in the trunk and a bottle of wine from her dad’s liquor cabinet. They sit out there, just passing the bottle back and forth for most of the night and when he wakes up, it’s to his nose pressed against the nape of her neck, and his arm around her waist. 

“You’re such a sweet kid,” she mumbles, turning to face him as the sun starts to rise the next morning. She presses their mouths together and even though the summer is just starting, it feels more like a goodbye than anything else.

;;

Jesse’s slated to come home mid-June, after spending an extra three weeks in New York working on a play. No one is going to _see_ the play, they’re not even going to put it up, but it’s been blocked and thirteen different kids know their parts from memory. It’s not something Laddy really understands, but Jesse is excited about it, so that’s pretty much all that matters. 

He’s actually out with Hallie Kate when Jesse gets there, teaching her how to properly ride a bike, trying to rectify the mistakes he’d made a few summers previously, and when his phone buzzes in pocket, he doesn’t even need to look at the view screen, he already knows. 

“Are you here?” he asks, not bothering with pleasantries or preamble.

“Yeah,” Jesse says, and he still sounds excited, sounds happy to be home, like Maple Ridge could even compare to New York. “Hey.”

Laddy can’t really control the smile on his face, and when HK pedals back over, he can’t hide it from her, either. “Jesse?!” she shrieks, and then takes off down the block like a banshee, moving faster than Laddy’s ever seen her go. 

“We’ll be there in a few,” he says, even though Jesse can probably guess. He sees the car first, but then Jesse’s there, hair a lot longer than it was in February but otherwise still the same. He’s grinning so big that Laddy can’t even stand to look at him for long. It’s more a tackle than a hug, but Laddy doesn’t even care about the twinge in his shoulder, because Jesse’s home and he’ll be around until September.

“Hey, hey,” Jesse says eventually, disentangling himself enough to peer Laddy over. “Should you have even been riding today?”

Hallie runs forward with the next round of hugs, and against his stomach, she mumbles, “He was mostly walking. He can barely even catch me now.” 

By unspoken agreement, they don’t mention the tumble she’d taken that morning or how hard she’d cried when he’d had to wash the gravel out of her knee.

“I doubt that’s true,” Jesse says, but he hugs her back, crouching down to get to her level and letting her wrap her arms tightly around his neck. “I missed you,” he mumbles against her hair, and Laddy tries his best to ignore the fact that they’re both crying.

The screen door bangs open, and all three of them glance back at the house because of the, “Bugger, sorry. You mentioned that the door didn’t need much force, but I—” 

Jesse’s roommate stumbles out of the house faster than his legs seem to be able to carry him, and Laddy’s pretty sure he and Hallie have the same expression on their faces. 

“Um,” Andrew says, “hello.”

“Jesse,” Hallie says, tugging on Jesse’s arm. “You didn’t say you were bringing _people_ home.” 

She sounds nervous, her voice tighter and thinner than usual.

Jesse grins down at her, ruffling her curls lightly and says, “come on. Andrew’s not people.”

On the porch, Andrew says, “I’m really not. I promise. I won’t be in your way at all.”

“Mostly he sits in corners and listens to moody emo music and paints his fingernails black,” Jesse adds, like Andrew hadn’t spoken at all, and they grin at each other easily. Laddy tries his best not to roll his eyes. He’s not as successful as he wants.

“I’m, just, uh,” Laddy mumbles, gesturing across the street toward his house. “I should wash up before dinner.” 

It’s true, at least. There’s a fine sheen of dirt that clings to him from the tip of his cap to the toes of his sneakers. Hallie Kate hasn’t gotten away unscathed either, there’s a smudge of something vaguely plant-like smeared across her cheek.

Jesse glances over at him sharply, like he can hear everything Laddy’s not saying, even though he’s not saying it for a reason. He never mentioned what happened last summer to Jesse, couldn’t seem to find the right time, and since it hasn’t been referenced since then, he assumes Andrew hasn’t brought it up either.

It’s definitely for the best.

“If you don’t come over for dinner in the next half hour,” Jesse says, and he’s not threatening, or anything, but his voice is pitched low and serious, his grip strong on Laddy’s arm. “I’m coming over to get you.”

Laddy nods, probably for longer than is strictly necessary. “Yeah, right. Of course. Sure. I’ll be here.”

“Half hour,” Jesse says, and then he lets go, turning back to the house with his arm loped over Hallie Kate’s shoulders and a stiffness to his posture Laddy wasn’t anticipating.

;;

The first thing Laddy does when he gets inside—well, the first thing he does is shower. The second thing, though, is to call Lacey. They haven’t broken up officially, but it’s not like they don’t know where this is going, and they’ve been doing their best to let things peter out slowly, hanging out with other people as much as they can and reminding themselves what it’s like not to be a couple.

“Hey,” she says, answering on the first ring. She’s laughing, which figures. Making fun of Laddy is like, her number one pastime. He has no idea what she’ll do next year in the States without him to torment. “You miss me already?”

Laddy frowns, most of the fight going out of him when he says, “Um, obviously,” because it’s mostly true, and the fact that she’s so awesome isn’t making it any easier.

“What’s up?” she asks eventually, breaking the silence filled with things he doesn’t know how to say. “I thought Wednesdays were our off days. Besides, isn’t Jesse back today? I thought for sure you’d have forgotten me by now.”

“It’s not like that,” Laddy says, even though they’d probably both been anticipating that it would be a lot like that. 

Lacey laughs at him again, which actually goes a long way in making him feel better. He calms down in increments, hadn’t even realized he’d been digging his nails against his palms until he unclenches his fists. 

“What’s it like, then?” she asks.

Laddy takes a deep breath and then another, and says, “he brought his roommate home with him.” 

It sounds weird, saying it out loud, especially since over the past nine months, Laddy’s done his best to pretend Andrew doesn’t exist. Even when they’d visited in February, they’d avoided him as much as possible. It wasn’t hard, considering Andrew seemed to be avoiding them too.

“Right,” Lacey says. “Having a hot British guy around is such a bummer. I wish I had your problems, babe.”

Laddy groans, head butting his pillows. “He didn’t even mention that dude was coming with him.” 

He sounds like a kid, annoying and whiny, but that doesn’t make it any less true. In the ten to fifteen times they’ve texted over the past few days, Jesse never once mentioned that he’d be bringing home a guest. He mentions that to Lacey, even though he has a pretty good idea about what she’s going to say.

He’s not wrong. 

“So?” she asks. “The three of you can hang out now, and you can stop being such a jealous freak.”

“I’m _not_ ,” Laddy says, but his throat gets tight regardless. “I’m not jealous,” he manages eventually. The words come out choked. “Jesus.”

“Oh, I get it,” she says quietly. Laddy’s not sure what she gets, but when she adds, “you want me to come by for dinner?” the relief that swoops in his stomach is overwhelming.

“Yes, please,” he says. “That’s exactly what I want.”

“I’ll be over in ten, loser,” she says, and doesn’t bother with a real goodbye. 

;;

Laddy’s never brought a guest to dinner before, but the Eisenbergs are familiar with Lacey on the court and from tutoring and she fits in as easily there as she does everywhere else. She asks for seconds of everything, doesn’t hesitate before helping with cleanup and even makes Hallie Kate smile when she talks about beating Laddy’s push-up ratio. 

“Hey, hey,” he says, but that just makes them giggle harder. “I’m _injured_ , okay? I could do twice as many push ups if I were at my full strength.”

Lacey’s mocking when she says, “Gimpy, are you sure about that? I bet I could take you at full strength _and_ with a hand tied behind my back.” She raises her brows like she’s serious, but she’s smiling, too. 

“I bet you could too,” Hallie Kate says from Lacey’s other side, and Laddy clutches his hands to his chest, playing the wounded.

“HK,” he groans, swaying just to make her giggle. “That hurts! I thought we were buds.”

Mrs. Eisenberg laughs behind her napkin and says, “how quickly alliances change,” under her breath. Everyone around the table laughs, even Andrew, although he can’t possibly know what the rest of them are talking about.

He’s fitting in okay, from what Laddy can tell. He hasn’t said much about himself, but he’s not quiet either. Laddy doesn’t look over more than twice, but on the second pass, Andrew definitely catches him at it. He focuses on Lacey instead, and she smiles at him, letting their linked fingers settle on the tabletop. 

When everything’s been cleared away, including their dessert bowls, Jesse says, “let’s hang out on the porch.” 

The four of them cram on the Eisenbergs’ back steps, even though there isn’t really enough room. Lacey ends up leaning half into Laddy’s lap, which is the best option, really, considering Andrew’s wedged against his other side.

They make polite conversation for a while. Jesse asks Lacey about her class options, about her basketball scholarship, and genuinely seems interested when she mentions she ended her season as the highest ranked point-guard for the region.

“That’s amazing.” He’s been around enough meaningless sports accolades that he can fake it pretty well, but he sounds genuinely happy for her. He would. Jesse’s always been too nice for his own good.

“I’m pretty stoked,” Lacey says. Her phone starts to buzz in her pocket and she moves herself off Laddy’s lap. “Ah, shoot. I should really take this. It’s my dad.” 

She makes an apologetic face at Jesse and Andrew and then manages to stick her tongue out at Laddy without anybody else seeing. 

Andrew smiles at Laddy, once she’s a few steps away and says, “I’m glad to see you two still together. She’s a very nice girl.”

“Uh, yeah,” Laddy says, hands in his pockets. “She’s the best.”

“Who’s the best?” Lacey asks, coming back from her call. She’s grinning brightly enough that Laddy’s pretty sure she heard all of that awkward exchange, but he doesn’t roll his eyes like she’s probably expecting him to.

“You,” he says, kissing her right on the mouth when she gets close enough. 

“You’re so sweet,” she says, ruffling his hair. She kisses him, but doesn’t let it get too far, pulling back enough to say, “Dad wants a little more bonding time before he never sees me again or something.” She laughs at something she doesn’t share and then leans in close to hug Jesse, adding, “Jess, it was so great to see you. Hopefully we’ll get to hang out again before the end of the summer. Andrew, it was great to see you too! Have a safe trip home if I don’t catch you before you leave.” She doesn’t bother saying a verbal goodbye to Laddy, just squeezes his wrist once before she leaves.

“I should, uh,” Laddy says after about a half hour of stilted conversation and more silences than he’s comfortable with. It’s not exactly awkward, but it’s getting there. “I should probably get out of your hair too,” he finishes lamely. “Let you guys settle in,” he adds, because he just can’t stop. It’s like his mouth has a brain of its own.

Andrew pushes to his feet and says, “I’m actually, ah,” he waves his hand around, but Laddy has no idea what he could be indicating. “I’m feeling quite tired. You two should, you should catch up. I’m just going to have a shower.” He nods, like it’s final, and then turns his smile at Laddy. “It’s been nice to see you again, Andrew. I’ll catch you tomorrow, probably.” 

“Probably,” Laddy parrots, and it’s definitely meaner than Andrew deserves, especially since he’s being so nice, and all he’s ever really been is nice. When door clicks shut, Jesse turns toward him, brows raised like he’s waiting. He’s home for the summer, he can probably wait for a while. 

“So I should—” he says, standing. 

Jesse stands too, but he doesn’t say anything until they’re crossing the street to Laddy’s house. 

“What the hell,” is what he comes up with eventually. It’s succinct, but he sounds hurt, a little wounded.

“I don’t,” he says, even though he does, and he looks down, picks at his fingernails to keep from looking at Jesse for too long. “I didn’t know you were bringing him home.” 

He knows how lame that sounds, childish and mean, and he doesn’t want to be any of those things, but that doesn’t actually make them less true.

Jesse shrugs, but he doesn’t look apologetic about it. 

“His folks are traveling,” he says, eventually. “He didn’t really want to go home and be alone for two months and it’s not like we don’t have all this room now that Kerri’s living with Lydia.” 

He makes it sound so simple, but he’s never invited anybody home before. Laddy mentions it, but Jesse just rolls his eyes. 

“I’ve never had anybody to bring home before,” he says quietly. “You were already here.”

“I didn’t even know you guys were that close,” Laddy mumbles petulantly, even though he had, sort of. Jesse mentions Andrew all the time, anyway.

Jesse rolls his eyes. “Yeah, you did,” he says, and they’re not fighting or anything, but this is definitely the first time Laddy can remember Jesse being disappointed in him. He is, too. Laddy can tell from the slope of his shoulders and the way his mouth is turned down at the corners.

“I’m sorry,” he says, eventually. Because he is. Because this sucks and he is, and all he really wanted was for Jesse to come home so they could hang out again. “This sucks.“

Jesse stops, like maybe he’s just figured something out, and Laddy winces, especially when Jesse blurts, voice pitched low, “Are you—there’s no way you’re jealous, is there?” 

“No,” Laddy says. 

Jesse crowds him, leaning close enough to wrap his arms around Laddy’s shoulders, squeezing, but not tight enough to cause any damage. “You’re such a fucking idiot,” he mumbles. “He’s not _replacing_ you, asshole.”

“I’m an asshole? You’re the one who left, man!” Laddy says, but he doesn’t stop hugging back, tucking his face against Jesse’s neck and breathing deep. He can’t really finish the thought, and his stomach is in the kind of knots that always make him feel like he’s going to puke. He tries to get out of the hug, but Jesse has a grip like an octopus and he doesn’t let go.

“I came back, though,” Jesse says quietly, squeezing Laddy’s arm again before finally letting him squirm back. “I know hockey players aren’t supposed to talk about their feelings or anything, but it’s okay to tell me you missed me, Andrew.”

Laddy rolls his eyes, but he finds himself smiling too hard to really mind. “I really fucking missed you.”

“I missed you too,” Jesse says. 

;;

Laddy wakes up early the next morning, feeling like a bigger dick than he’s really comfortable with. He and Jesse are probably fine, but. He rolls over, reaching for his cell, and calls Lacey, even though it’s earlier in the morning than anybody should be up in the summertime.

“Hey,” she says on the second ring. She sounds way too alert for seven am. “I just finished up with my run. What’s up?” 

Laddy tucks his face against his pillow so she won’t hear him laughing, but he’s probably not as successful as he wants. He’s not really awake yet.

“On a scale of one to ten, how much of a dick was I to Jesse’s roommate last night?” he asks. He has a feeling the number is on the higher end of the spectrum, and Lacey’s not going to sugarcoat it for him.

She hums on her end. “Maybe a 5?” she says eventually. “Not as bad as you were in New York, but still not really acknowledging his existence.” 

“I was that bad in New York?” Laddy asks. He doesn’t really want to hear it, but Mike has always said that nothing anybody tells you can be any worse than what you can say about yourself, and Laddy knows she’s right even before she starts. He was a dick in New York. He’s probably going to keep being a dick, but he can try to lessen the blow, at least.

“You acted like there was a cockroach infestation in the room, babe,” she says. “Every time the four of us were in there together, or when that girl Emma was there, you couldn’t get out fast enough.”

He winces. “So,” he says, wincing. “Morning coffees are probably a must, right?”

“I would say they were mandatory,” she says. 

They hang up not too much later, and Laddy gets up, because there’s no point in trying to fall back asleep. 

His parents have already left for work and Josh is at camp for the week, so Laddy doesn’t have to leave a note or anything when he takes off. He’s got most of the day to do what he wants, at least until noon, when he has to mow the lawn for Mr. Mailer, who’s on a cruise with his granddaughters for the next few weeks. It’s not the worst thing he could be doing for a summer job, but it bisects his day strangely, and he and Lacey are rarely on the same schedule. It’s going to get worse, too, because she’s leaving for camp on Saturday. He’s trying not to think about it too much, but that’s obviously easier said than done.

The Timmy’s downtown isn’t his favorite, considering how shitty the service is, but Laddy braves it anyway, ordering Jesse an iced coffee with no flavoring and getting one for himself as well. He doesn’t know how Andrew takes his drinks, or if he drinks coffee at all, but he rounds out the order with three and then gets a carton of TimBits, too, just because he’s a nice guy.

There’s traffic, but he’s still over at the Eisenbergs’ earlier than he normally would be. His hands are full, so he kind of kicks his foot against the front door instead of ringing the bell.

It takes a couple minutes, but after repeated knocks against the door, he can finally hear some movement from inside. Laddy’s expecting Hallie Kate, or Jesse at least, but it’s Andrew who answers, rumpled and sleepy. There’s a pillow crease on his cheek.

“Oh,” he says, smiling with way more teeth than Laddy probably deserves. “Hello, Andrew.” He blinks. “You’ve brought treats.”

Laddy clears his throat, feeling awkward, but he just says, “uh, yeah. Hey. Good morning. I didn’t know how you drank your coffee. Or if you even drank coffee or if maybe you were one of those freaky people who only likes tea because you’re British.” He’s babbling, but he can’t stop. “Uh, I’m sorry I’ve been such a dick to you,” he blurts. “It was shitty of me.” He shoves the tray against Andrew’s chest. “Have an over-milked coffee drink to make up for it?”

“I actually prefer cream,” Andrew says, blinking again, and they look at each other for a second while Laddy feels his cheeks get even hotter.

“Fuck,” he mutters under his breath. “I should’ve texted first or something, but I wanted—”

Andrew makes an abortive noise, choking a little when Laddy looks at him and he says, “I’m so sorry. I’m sorry. I was—it was a joke. A mean joke, especially when you’ve gotten up so early to get us breakfast.” He knocks their arms together a little, and tries for a smile. “Thank you very much,” he says, gesturing for Laddy to come into the house, because oh. Right. He’s still standing on the front steps. “I drink any type of coffee,” Andrew adds. “You have to have some sort of dependency on the stuff to keep up with Jesse.”

Laddy’s stomach goes a little tight, but he smiles what he hopes is his best and says, “He up? I feel like,” he coughs a little, clearing his throat. He has to deal with this eventually, but that doesn’t mean he has to like it. “Maybe we could go for a walk or something.” He keeps his gaze trained to Andrew’s feet. He’s in a pair of cut off sweats and bare feet. “Clear the air?”

“He’s still dead to the world, I think,” Andrew says quietly. “We alternated on the drive, but I think it took a lot of out him.”

Laddy stuffs his free hand into his pocket, now that Andrew’s holding onto the coffee tray, it’s awkward, just standing there, so he says, “let me just go drop these off in the kitchen and we can meet out front in a minute?”

“Sure,” Andrew says. “Of course.”

The problem, though, with having this conversation off the cuff is that Laddy hasn’t thought a ton about it. 48 hours ago, if asked, he’d’ve probably said that he didn’t know a lot about Jesse’s college roommate, but that he seemed to be a pretty decent dude, even if a part of him kind of hated the guy, irrationally. 

Okay, so maybe he wouldn’t have admitted that part out loud, but he still would have thought it. If Andrew’s going to be hanging around, though, if his friendship with Jesse is going to be something that lasts, then Laddy has to get over himself. There’s no way he’s making Jesse sad again, if he can help it.

Andrew comes out a few minutes later, sipping from one of the iced coffees and holding another. He’s still in the cut offs, but he’s traded the bare feet for a beat up pair of Converse. “Hello,” he says. He sounds a little weary.

“Park?” Laddy asks when they’ve been walking for a few minutes. “Hallie Kate loved the monkey bars down there so much when she was younger that she had me and Jess help her write this proposal to let her spend at least one night a week there during the summer.”

“At the monkey bars?” Andrew asks, laughing. “What did Mr. and Mrs. Eisenberg have to say about that?” Andrew asks. He’s laughing, though, which is the important part. It’s a great story. HK is a fucking cute kid, even if she would try and kick his ass if she heard him calling her that.

“They said she could try it, but only if she bought and paid for her own sleeping bag and could convince either me and Jesse to spend the night out there with her.”

Andrew laughs again. “She wanted to do it on her own?”

“Well,” Laddy says, and he can feel his face flushing. “A couple summers before that, when she was really little, Jess and me convinced them to let us go camping by ourselves at Alice Lake. I mean, my folks go camping there for a week every summer anyway, but that year, we wanted...” It’s not a difficult memory to recount, it’s one of Laddy’s favorites, actually, but he still trips over his words like he’s unsure about it. “We wanted to try and see if we could do it ourselves or whatever.” 

Andrew makes a humming noise, like he’s waiting for Laddy to continue. When that doesn’t work, he says, “and could you?”

“Oh! Yeah, no.” He laughs, just thinking about it. “Not really? I was only like, twelve or something? I think, so Jess must’ve been fourteen—that was the year of the drama camp disaster.” 

“Christ, that sounded awful. Though the Eisenbergs don’t quite seem like sadists from the outset.”

“They thought he’d like it,” Laddy says, kicking at the ground. It’s weird to be talking about Jesse like this, waging a war between history and what’s current. “He didn’t. I don’t bring it up much, if I can help it.”  
Andrew clears his throat and Laddy turns to look at him, but the sun is in the way, so mostly he ends up glaring at nothing. He says, “Andrew. I just. I wanted to apologize for what happened last summer. I was drunk and you were there, and I’m sure you know what you look like, and I.” 

Laddy has the presence of mind to put his coffee cup down. It’s pretty quiet for mid-morning on a Wednesday, but there are still people around, a couple of young parents with their kids further down the park. He leans forward, nearly kissing Andrew on the mouth.

“Um,” Andrew says, cheekbones flushed as he takes a step back. “What are you doing?” Laddy doesn’t get a chance to respond before Andrew adds, “I know how close you are with Jesse. I, um. I would never want to cause a sore spot in your relationship.”

“You wouldn’t,” Laddy says and doesn’t miss the fact that Andrew’s watching his mouth as he speaks. “I.” 

This would be a great time to know what the hell he’s doing, but Laddy’s still pretty much just as lost.

He says, “I’m sorry. Uh. Again,” and then he runs.

;;

He calls Lacey when he gets home, because maybe Steeger and Seabs know about how he used to kiss guys sometimes, but they don’t know that he’s kissed the same guy twice. Or something. Lacey’s phone rings through to voicemail three times before he remembers, right, she has counselor training for the next few hours.

He sends a text that just says, _fucked up. call when you can?_ and spends the next hour pacing around his bedroom.

When the doorbell rings, he’s half sure it’s Andrew, coming to punch his face in or Jesse coming to try and do the same. He’s half right, anyway, unlocks the door to Jesse standing on his front steps, getting ready to knock again.

“Andrew,” he says, sounding surprised. Laddy waves him in, going back inside to the den and collapsing face down on one of the couches. He’s pretty sure this day started out at least vaguely promising. “Um. Do you know if something’s going on with, uh.” He pauses for a second, the way he always does when trying to differentiate between the two of them.

Laddy tries out a smile and says, “Other Andrew?”

Jesse smiles at him, and Laddy just feels worse. “Do you know what could have happened? I woke up to him making noises about how maybe he shouldn’t stay and you know, Europe might be fun to try alone. He was supposed to be here for a month.” Jesse pauses for a minute, chewing on his lip. He frowns. “Do you think I did something to upset him? I just don’t. I don’t really know what could have changed.”

“Great,” Laddy mutters under his breath. “Um, I do,” he says. He feels like an even bigger jackass than he’d even anticipated. “Let me talk to him, yeah? I’ll fix it.”

“You will?” Jesse asks, but Laddy’s already out the door. It’s sweltering outside, and Laddy’s sweating a little by the time he makes it across the street to the Eisenbergs’. Andrew’s sitting out on the front steps looking a little lost. He stands up when he sees Laddy coming.

“Andrew,” he says, sounding embarrassed, but Laddy doesn’t even want to hear it. They have to make this work. They’re going to make this work. He says it out loud, trying to infuse his voice with as much confidence as he’s got. 

“This morning was stupid. I don’t know what I was thinking,” Laddy says, breathing hard.

“That’s alright,” Andrew says, but he still looks uncomfortable. Laddy can hear Jesse crossing the street and the last thing he wants is for this to become a full-blown thing between the three of them. 

“It’s not, and I’m sorry. Please, uh. Forgive me, yeah?” he asks.

“Hey,” Jesse says from behind them and Laddy can hear the confusion in his voice. This is the dumbest fucking day. He wants a do-over, for the last two days, maybe. “What’s going on, guys?”

“Let’s go camping,” Laddy says. Andrew and Jesse look at him like he’s crazy. They’re definitely not wrong. “You haven’t been out there in a couple years, Jess. It’ll be fun to, uh, show Andrew the sights.”

Jesse narrows his eyes. “You want to go camping?”

“Laddy was just telling me of your childhood exploits there,” Andrew says, picking up the thread so smoothly it’s like Laddy handed it to him. “I would love to see it, to be honest. I haven’t been camping since I was very young, but I loved it.” 

Jesse starts to smile, relaxing, and Laddy’s so relieved it kind of hurts. “Yeah. Yeah, okay. That sounds like it could be fun.”

;;

When Laddy tells his folks that he, Jesse and Andrew are going down to Alice Lake for the weekend, he’s surprised to see them look so happy about it. He shouldn’t have been. His parents love Jesse almost as much as they love their own kids.

“It’ll be great for you to put the effort into getting to know his roommate,” his dad says with a completely straight face. “He seems like a nice young man, from what we’ve seen of him.”

“From the nothing you’ve seen of him, you mean?” 

“Andy,” his mom says, and she can’t really hold it in, turning to look at his dad with her hand pressed against her mouth to get a hold on her giggles. Laddy’s pretty sure he hates everyone in this house, himself included. “We know how upset you were when Jesse went off to school,” she manages, when most of the giddiness has worn off. “And when you came back, both times when you came back and we asked you how Jess was settling in, you’d say, ‘fine’, and then change the subject.”

“Mom,” Laddy whines. “He was fine! It’s not like I was lying.” 

He feels too young, all of the sudden, smaller than he should. This is what happens, he thinks. This is what happens when you stop being good at stuff, you go crazy earlier.

“We just think it’s great that you’re including his friend,” his dad says with a smile. He’s pretty composed, but Laddy can tell he’s trying not to laugh too. Fucking parents. They think they know so much. “You can even borrow the truck,” he adds, like he’s softening the blow. It totally helps.

“Yeah?” Laddy asks.

“On one condition,” his mom says, and the two of them turn to each other, having the kind of freaky, married people silent conversation Laddy’s witnessed at least a hundred times since he was a kid. 

“Yes,” his dad says eventually. He’s smiling now, like he’s sitting on the world’s best joke. "On one condition."

Laddy can’t wait to hear this. “Yeah?”

“Jesse can’t drive,” his mom says. They both start to giggle again, because instead of business professionals, they’re secretly five year olds. Laddy gets the dishes and doesn’t let himself laugh until he’s in the kitchen, loading the dishwasher.

His phone buzzes with an incoming call when he’s just about done, and Laddy shoves the casserole pan into the sink to soak before tugging it out of the back pocket of his shorts and swiping the accept button. 

“Hello?” 

“Hey babe,” Lacey says, she sounds like she’s in a tunnel, far away, and Laddy knows he must be on speaker because she’s packing. 

She’s been going to camp every summer since she was a kid, but this is the last year she’ll be eligible to be a junior counselor. It hadn’t sounded like a big deal to him when she’d first mentioned it earlier in the spring, but it’s important to her, and she’s definitely supported him through way less. 

“I got your text,” she says after a second, and he can just imagine how she’s sitting, cross legged and chewing on her lip in concentration, trying to make sure she’s grabbed everything she’ll need. “What’s up? Did the coffee plan not work?”

This is definitely a conversation they should have, but they should probably have it face to face. 

“You think I could come over?” he asks. “I know you’re busy with packing, and your dad and stuff, but I, uh.” 

“Sure,” she says easily, like she doesn’t even need to consider it. “We’re eating dinner in ten, but come by in like an hour? Does that sound okay?” 

It’s fine, although it doesn’t change the fact that he wishes he could see her now. “Sure,” he says. “See you then.”

The Hellermans don’t live very far away, and it’s easier just to walk it than to go to the trouble of finding his keys. Laddy leaves a little earlier than he would have normally and does a loop of the neighborhood before heading to where she and her dad live. It’s a chilly night, temperatures in the low teens, and he’s regretting the decision not to change out of his shorts, but not enough to go back now and put on something different.

Lacey’s waiting on the front steps of her house when he gets there, wrapped up in sweatpants and a comforter, and she smiles when she sees him, but it doesn’t look very convincing. She looks worried. 

“Hey,” he says, leaning down to press a kiss to her hair. “You didn’t have to wait out here. It’s cold.”

She shrugs, but the smile is back in full force at least. She says, “this is nothing. Try running the track down at the school in -1 degree weather in those tiny little shorts while still managing to look presentable and not freezing your tits off and then talk to me about the cold.”

“I will not do that,” Laddy says, and sits down next to her on the step, leaning their shoulders together. “I like my tits, thanks.”

Lacey laughs outright, which is what he’d been hoping for, then makes a motion like she’s about to grab at him right there. “I like them too,” she says, but not with a straight face and Laddy laughs too, letting his weight settle against her.

“I hate that you’re leaving so soon,” he says. She’ll be at camp until mid-August, by which point she’ll have to be packed and ready to go down to school. They’ve been planning it, he’s more prepared this time around, but that doesn’t mean he has to like it.

Lacey shifts so he can get some of the blanket too, and then tucks her head against his shoulder. 

“I didn’t think I’d like you as much as I do,” she says quietly, her voice thick against his neck. He doesn’t think she’s crying, but he’s pretty sure she could, and that makes everything even worse.

“I fucked up,” he says, not loud, but loud enough for her to hear, and Lacey’s wiping her eyes when she straightens up, but she still looks mostly okay, rumpled and a little sad, but not preparing for the worst.

“Your text mentioned that,” she says, tucking her hair behind her ear. “Did you kill a man in Reno just to watch him die? Because unless it’s that—and if it is that, wow. You have better taste in music than I even knew.” She takes a breath, obviously trying not to laugh again. “Whatever it is, it’s fine, babe. It can’t be that bad.”

Laddy clears his throat once and then again. Eventually he blurts, “um, last summer. When Jess and I drove down to New York?” 

He takes a long enough pause that she nudges him and when that doesn’t work, she says, “yeah?” 

Her bangs are falling into her eyes, skin tan from being out on the water all day. Laddy looks away, because it’ll probably be easier if he’s not looking at her head on. 

“Andrew and me. We—kissed,” he says, finally. “He, uh. He kissed me. But my shoulder was fucked up and we couldn’t.” He exhales slowly, but it doesn’t calm his heart down at all. “I mean, we didn’t. And then we didn’t really talk about it or anything.” 

The Hellermans live in the last house of the cul-de-sac, their property curved slightly to the right, but they get cars down this way all the time, using the dead end to turn around. It happens then, the headlights of a Jeep illuminating Lacey’s face. She looks surprised, but not angry and she doesn’t move away.

If she’s expecting him to say more, she doesn’t show it. All she says is, “well, that explains why you didn’t want to be near him at all when we were there last winter.”

“Yeah, um, I guess,” he mumbles. She’s still hanging onto his arm, and after a few minutes of quiet, she squeezes, just reminding him that she’s there. “Why aren’t you freaking out? You can. I won’t, like. I mean, you’re leaving the day after tomorrow anyway, yeah? Even if you’re mad at me, it’s not like—”

“Are you only telling me about it now because I’m leaving soon?” She scoots away, slightly, letting her hand slip from his arm. “Because that’s—you’re right, that is fucked up.”

“Lace,” he says, trying to grab her arm. 

She’s fast, though, drops the blanket on the steps and moves out onto the walkway. 

“Is that it?” she asks. They’ve been mad at each other before, but he’s never seen her this outrightly angry. Her voice is like ice. “Is that all you had to tell me?”

He watches as she rubs her hands up and down her arms, chilled already. “Take your blanket back, Lace. You’re going to freeze.”

“I’m fine,” she grits out, staring straight at him. “What else? You could’ve—you can tell me anything. You know you can.”

She sounds like she means it, but Laddy’s never been able to open up about stuff like this. “I didn’t even tell Jesse,” he mumbles, dropping her gaze to stare at his knees. This is so fucked up. She’s leaving and she’s going to dump him and she doesn’t even know the worst part yet.

“Jesse doesn’t know?” Lacey asks, voice high and a little thin. He doesn’t bother looking at her again, but he can feel it when she settles back at his side. He can feel her watching him.

Laddy shrugs, feeling a phantom pain in his shoulder. He knows it shouldn’t be there, but he feels it regardless, wincing at the sensation of it. 

“No,” he says finally, voice way too hoarse to make much sound.

They’re both quiet for a while. This definitely isn’t how he’d wanted them to spend their last days together and he says as much, but she just shakes her head at him. 

“You know if that’s—babe, you know that’s nothing to be ashamed of, right? You can’t be that much of a meathead hockey player still, to think that liking guys.” She pauses and takes a huge breath, squeezing onto his wrist. “There’s nothing wrong with it. Swear to god.”

“I don’t,” he says, and then, because he has to, because she’s being too nice to him and he really doesn’t deserve it, “I, uh. I tried to kiss him today. Earlier. This morning. I got them coffee and we went for a walk, just him and me, and I—”

“And you kissed him,” she whispers. She drops her hands from his wrist, but she doesn’t move away again. Laddy’s never felt like a bigger asshole and the last couple of days really haven’t been his best.

“He stopped me,” he says. “But yeah. I probably would have.”

Lacey touches his shoulder softly, slowly, like she has a long way to go. “Thanks. For, um. For telling me,” she says.

“I don’t even really know what I’m doing,” he mumbles. “It’s not like I actually like the guy.”

She starts to shiver. Laddy nudges her a little, and then a little more when she doesn’t take the hint. Eventually, she wraps the blanket around her shoulders again and the teeth-chattering stops, even if she still won’t look at him. 

“Maybe you do,” she says eventually. When she does turn to look at him, she’s frowning. “It’s not like we were actually serious, Andy.”

“Lace, come on,” he says, but she shakes her head, not looking at him again while she wipes her eyes. He’s never made somebody cry before, not on purpose. “You’re the best. You know I think you’re the best. Being around you is probably the greatest thing that’s ever happened to me.”

“I’m so.” She stops, taking a deep breath and then another. “What’s the point in even getting mad at you? We’re breaking up.” 

Laddy’s never seen her look this sad, not in all the time they’ve known each other, and definitely not in the eight months they’ve been dating. 

“I shouldn’t have done it. My head is all messed up. I’m sorry,” he says. It’s a lame excuse, but it’s the truth. 

She knots her fingers together, squeezing so hard that the skin around her knuckles starts to whiten. 

“Are you in love with Jesse?” she asks, her voice so low that the question gets lost somewhere.

“What?” He’s a little too high-pitched. Panicked, like they’ve never gotten this question before. They have. He has. They’re just. That’s not how it is with them. It never really has been.

“Are you,” she says, and the rolls her eyes at him. “C’mon, asshole.” She shoves their elbows together hard. She’s laughing a little, the giggles mixed in with her tears. “Are you really going to make me ask again?”

;;

Climbing up the trellis outside of Jesse’s bedroom now is probably the stupidest thing he’s done in the last year. Maybe the last two years, if you count going out for practice even though he knew he wasn’t feeling one hundred percent. Laddy’s instincts off the ice have never been great, but that doesn’t stop him from making the climb anyway.

Jesse’s a light sleeper, must hear Laddy coming from a mile away, because he yanks his window open a few seconds before Laddy reaches the top and takes a second to look relieved before the worry sets in. 

“What are you doing?” he asks, tugging Laddy inside by the scruff of his t-shirt. His fingers are freezing, even though his skin has only been exposed to the air for a minute.

“Saying hey,” Laddy says, trying his best smile. He didn’t bother putting his contacts in just to run across the street, and his glasses are—somewhere. He doesn’t really need them if he’s not in school and the prospect of not having to do math or read for anything but pleasure is more appealing than digging them out every day.

Jesse rolls his eyes. “Hey,” he says and raises his brows, arms crossed in front of him like he’s a parent. “You couldn’t call?”

“I had to talk to you,” Laddy says. He feels drunk. He’s maybe a little drunk. It’s the middle of the night, but he’s wide awake, can’t seem to keep focus on anything for longer than a second, and even then, mostly what he’s focusing on is Jesse.

“You could’ve called,” Jesse says, and Laddy knows he could have, but this isn’t the kind of shit you say over the phone. 

“Yes,” Laddy says, and then they stare at each other for a full minute. “This isn’t the kind of shit you say on the phone, Jess. I had to _talk_ to you.”

“Let’s go for a walk,” Jesse says, eyeing Laddy wearily, like he might pull magic tricks or explosives out from behind him and lose an arm if he’s not too careful.

Andrew’s asleep on the inflatable mattress by Jesse’s bed, face mashed into the pillows, and Laddy takes a second to look at him, to appreciate the view. It’s pretty nice, from where he’s standing, but it’s not Jesse and if it’s going to be somebody, shouldn’t it be Jesse?

“Shouldn’t it be me, what?” Jesse asks from behind him, still tugging on his sneakers. He’s quiet, though, quieter than he’d been before. Conscious of the guest sleeping on the air mattress and his parents dozing down the hall.

Laddy shakes his head. “Walk first,” he says, “chat later.”

They go in the opposite direction of the park, closer to the school, even though Laddy wouldn’t normally head there in the middle of the summertime. There’s no swing set, but on there are bleachers on the football field, and they end up there, filing in singles as they wander up the metal steps. 

It’s chilly, hasn’t gotten any warmer since he sat outside with Lacey and that feels like it was days ago, now, even though it’s only been hours, and he’s texted her at least five times since to apologize for being such a dick. 

“Lacey broke up with me,” he says, swaying even though he’s sitting still. Jesse glances back at him sharply, like he’s waiting for more, but Laddy’s not ready for the rest of it yet. “She wasn’t wrong. It was totally my fault, so you can’t be mad at her.”

Jesse snorts and says, “um, obviously it was your fault,” but he elbows Laddy in the side, anyway.

Laddy takes a deep breath, holding it and letting it puff his cheeks out. Jesse laughs, poking the pad of his thumb against Laddy’s cheek and the air whooshes out of him with a straining sound. 

“She thinks I’m in love with you,” he says and waits for the surprised hitch of Jesse’s breathing before he barrels on. “Everybody thinks I’m in love with you, have you noticed that? My parents, your parents, Emma Stone from Tisch—everyone.”

“Um,” Jesse says, and starts tugging so hard on one of his curls he’ll probably have a bald spot there eventually. “Do, um.” He swallows so loud that Laddy can hear it from where he’s sitting. “Do you think you’re in love with me?”

“I like dudes,” Laddy admits and then winces over how pathetic and after-school-special light it sounds out loud. “I mean, not exclusively? But.”

“But,” Jesse echoes, but he doesn’t add anything, just stares out across the football field and waits for Laddy to keep going.

Laddy shrugs. “But, yeah,” he says. “I like dudes.” 

It takes a lot not to add an _I guess_ at the end of it, to make it less of an admission than it really is.

“So are you—” Jesse starts, but Laddy beats him to it. 

“I think,” he says. “I think I’m not in love with you.”

It’s fucked up, because he probably should be. There are at least twelve teen romance novels that go this exact way on Lacey’s dresser. 

“I kind of wish I was,” he finishes, even though it’s awkward and there’s probably nothing worse that he could have said.

Jesse lets out a messy breath. It sounds like he’s been holding it for a while. “I’m glad you’re not,” he whispers, and then reaches out to grab onto Laddy’s wrist and squeezes once before letting go again.

“Because you’re not into,” Laddy stumbles over his words, which is stupid, too, because they’ve gotten this far. “You’re not into dudes.”

Jesse looks apologetic when Laddy looks over at him. He shrugs.

“I never really thought about it,” he says. “But, there’s this girl at school and I.” He blushes to the roots hair, skin going bright pink in less than ten seconds. It’s impressive. “I don’t think I’d feel the way I feel about her if I were gay.” Laddy winces and Jesse misses it the first time, but definitely takes note at the next pass, stopping his words entirely to peer carefully at Laddy’s face. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“I’m not,” Laddy says. “For the record. I like both.” He’s a little defensive when he adds, “you can like both,” but it doesn’t last for long, not when Jesse’s face falls so quickly. 

“I know you can,” Jesse says quickly, grabbing onto Laddy’s wrist again. He doesn’t let go this time. “I know you can.”

They spend about an hour out there, not saying much. Laddy burrows closer to Jesse, though, letting his head loll against his shoulder, and eventually, he says, “Andrew kissed me,” because this is it; the last hurdle before he finishes running the track.

Jesse tenses up almost immediately. 

“My—my roommate Andrew?” he asks.

“Yeah,” Laddy says, and he doesn’t shrug the way he wants to. “Last summer. Um, right before I left? When I wrenched my shoulder?”

The field is dim, but Laddy’s sitting close enough to Jesse that he can see the blank expression on his face. 

“Andrew’s the reason you wrenched your shoulder?” he asks. He sounds a little hysterical, but it’s muted. It’s not something Laddy could describe if he even tried.

“No,” he says, and then again, louder, so Jesse will really hear him. “It’s not like that. But we kissed and stuff. And, I. Uh.”

Jesse doesn’t make it easy for him. He doesn’t ask any leading questions, or make any comments at all, really. He just sits and waits for Laddy to get his shit together.

“I like him,” Laddy blurts, and feels his face flush with the kind of embarrassment he’s tried to steer away from for most of his life. "I think I like him. I would like not to like him, but that’s not so easy.”

Jesse doesn’t say anything for so long that Laddy thinks he might’ve fallen asleep. Maybe they’re both asleep. Maybe this is some crazy sort of fever dream he’s having and—“I’m not mad,” Jesse says, and the relief that pools into Laddy’s stomach is almost overwhelming. 

“Oh,” Laddy says, but it’s not even a word so much as it is a breath he’s been holding for what feels like a year. “That’s good,” he adds, inanely, because he has to fill the air up with something.

“I wish you’d told me,” Jesse says after a little while, and he sounds upset, but he’s also not stomping off or moving away, not that he’s really the stomping off kind. “But I mean, I guess I get why you didn’t?”

“Um,” he says, intelligently. “Thanks, Jess.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Jesse says, rolling his eyes. “You’re welcome.”

;;

Laddy wakes up to the sound of his phone ringing, which isn’t all that surprising, except for how it’s 5 in the morning, and he’s gotten maybe an hour’s worth of sleep, if that. _If_ that, Jesus.

“What,” he groans, thumping his head a couple times against the mattress. He’s still in his clothes from last night or an hour ago or yesterday. Whatever. Whichever one is apt, Laddy’s mostly clothed and can’t even feel his head for how hard it’s pounding.

Somebody clears their throat. It sounds like it’s an asshole, so Laddy’s betting on Mike. 

“‘Mikey,’” his brother says, clearly reading from something. His voice is a little tinny, far away enough that Laddy can tell he’s on speaker. “‘Lacey dumped me. So, so, so sad.’” Mike starts to laugh, and if Laddy could feel his feet, or other extremities, he would totally drive out to York to kick that dude’s ass. “Really? ‘So, so, _so_ sad? So many sads it took three of ‘em?” 

He’s laughing again, because he’s a dickbag.

“ _Hate_ you,” Laddy mutters, feeling a wave of nausea roll over him like a wave. “What is time?”

“Why’d she dump you?” Mike asks, and he sounds closer, so the reading portion of the evening/morning must be over. Laddy’s body hurts so much, he can’t even turn to look at the alarm clock.

“You really want to talk about this now?” he asks, but obviously Mike does, because he’s calling. He says as much, and Laddy doesn’t laugh, but maybe he would have, if it weren’t ass o’clock in the morning. The sun isn’t even close to being up yet.

Mike says, “I have a routine, Andy. I get up at 4:30 every morning, I get some stretches in, I have a protein shake, I check my messages—”

Oh, god. “I haven’t even been asleep an _hour_ ,” Laddy mutters, but Mike just keeps talking, because he’s asshole.

“Seriously, though, Andy,” Mike continues. “She was a good one. What did you do?”

Laddy groans, pushing himself up enough to strip off his stained t-shirt and kick off his jeans. The responsible thing to do would be to find a pair of pajamas, or at least some track pants, but the concept of actually getting to his feet is enough to make Laddy dizzy.

“We were breaking up anyway,” he manages in between yawns.

“At the end of the summer,” Mike says, because sometimes he’s way too involved in Laddy’s life. “It’s not even July yet, fucker. What did you do?”

“Mike.”

“ _Andy_.” 

Laddy groans again. His skin feels the kind of gritty that can’t be washed off in the shower. 

“What do we do to get her back?” Mike asks, and he sounds pumped, like he’s ready to go, like right after morning practice, he’s going to drive right on home and fix the Laddy-Lacey problem single handedly. “She totally wants you. You think I didn’t see her at Christmas? She was all over you, bud.”

Laddy barely remembers Christmas. He should probably say that, but what comes out instead is, “she probably doesn’t want a boyfriend who wants to suck dick, though, so,” which wasn’t what he’d planned on at all.

Mike’s quiet for so long Laddy almost falls asleep again. 

“That’s, uh,” he says, and it’s comforting that at least somebody in his life didn’t know, absolutely, right away. “Really?”

Laddy lets his eyes slip shut. “Fuck you,” he says, and Mike laughs, so that’s got to count for something.

“Get some sleep, bud,” he says. Laddy definitely doesn’t need to be told twice.

;;

Steeger drops by the house obnoxiously early. He doesn’t even do the courteous thing of maybe ringing the doorbell once or twice and then calling, no. He rings the bell, knocks, and then keeps a steady stream of calls coming in to Laddy’s phone. 

He won’t be ignored. Laddy would appreciate that kind of tenacity in a person if it weren’t directed at him at nine in the morning.

When he answers the door, he’s just in his shorts, because if Versteeg wants a show, he’s going to fucking get one. 

“Take it off!” Steeger crows, and then manages to edge into the house, even though Laddy definitely tries to slam the door in his face. “Somebody wasn’t up with the sun today, huh?” 

He makes himself comfortable in the kitchen, grabbing a mug from the cubby and pouring himself coffee from the pot.

“That’s not even, like, fresh,” Laddy says, but Steeger keeps it down, and then swigs the rest of the mug for good measure. “I’ll make a fresh one.”

“You sit,” Steeger says, gesturing toward the table where Laddy’s dad left the paper open on the crossword. “Tell me what happened with Lacey.”

Laddy stares at him for a full minute. Steeger’s not paying attention, moving through the Ladds’ kitchen like he lives there, considering he knows where they keep the spare grinder and the Splenda. 

“What about Lacey?” Laddy asks. It doesn’t even really feel like it’s been as short a time as it has, but. It’s official. He was an asshole, so Lacey dumped him. End of story. Maybe that’s the line he can read to all of the people who are probably going to ask him now. 

Steeger’s standing in front of the coffee maker, just watching, because apparently nobody ever told him about watched pots boiling, and he says, “dude, don’t even. Mindy called her up to see if you guys wanted to do something tonight, to like, celebrate her last night in town or whatever, and she said—”

“Don’t.” His voice is much harsher than he expects it to be, clipped but raw, like he’s been cut. He’s never really broken up with anybody before, but maybe this is just what it’s like, swinging with no safety net.

Steeger’s working on his third cup of coffee before he speaks again, and by then, Laddy’s mostly gotten himself under control. 

“You want some ice cream?” he asks. Laddy glares at him briefly, but Steeger’s not even a dick, he’s being _sincere_ , which is actually probably worse. 

“Fuck you,” Laddy says, even though it couldn’t hurt. “No. Fuck you,” he adds again, just as a nice counterpoint. In case it wasn’t strong enough the first time. “If you fucking ask me if I want to talk about it, I’m punching you in the face.”

Steeger blinks, but then he’s smirking again and leaning forward in his seat, palms spread on the table like he’s the second coming, or something. 

“Somebody’s a little touchy, huh?” he asks, and he’s being kind of a tool, but Laddy would rather have him this way than any other.

“Shut up,” he says, and Steeger nods, like he’s okay with that turn of events. He finishes up his coffee, pouring a mug for Laddy, too, and then follows him up to his room where half his clothes are on the floor and half are in the duffle on his bed.

“Moving?” Steeger asks, and Laddy just rolls his eyes, because while drunk and emotionally exhausted packing isn’t something they advertise for teenagers, but it’s totally something that happens. 

“Me and Jesse and the roommate are going out to Alice Lake for a couple of days,” he says, and when Steeger’s eyes light up, he knows what’s coming before he even says a word.

That’s the kind of thing that’s ingrained after so many years of friendship, so when Steeger flops next to a pile of jeans on the bed and says, “how early do you want me here?” Laddy’s not even surprised.

“Didn’t know you were invited,” he says, raising his brows like it’s a challenge, but Steeger just tips back and laughs, like Laddy’s intimidation face isn’t even all that intimidating. Asshole.

“Please,” Steeger says eventually. “Please. A) You can’t stand Jesse’s roommate, so trapped in a tiny little tent with him for three days is going to drive you nuts with animal lust.” He doesn’t even stop speaking long enough for Laddy to freak out. “Also, 2) I fucking _love_ camping, unlike Eiseie, who actually tried reading under his sleeping bag that one time when we were kids, instead of, like, sleeping off that hike like a normal person.”

“It was a good book,” Laddy volleys back weakly, not that he can actually remember. Most of the camping trips of their youth are a mixture of Jesse and Laddy and Seabs and Steeger and Mike and Joshua. He can’t really parse out which moments are from which summers.

“The point is,” Steeger continues, like Laddy hadn’t spoken at all. “You need me.”

“I need you like a heart attack,” Laddy mutters, but he drops down onto the floor by Steeger’s feet anyway, punching half-heartedly at that guy’s knee.

They’re quiet for a while, which is kind of a feat, considering Steeger’s a motormouth. He sits up, and Laddy can tell, because his hand drops heavily onto Laddy’s head, and when he peers down, his nose skids against Laddy’s cheek.

“You’ve been clutching a little at your left arm,” he says casually. “You think it’s me, or a case of Angina?”

;;

They go camping. It’s about as awkward as to be expected, because Jesse knows, and Laddy knows, and Laddy’s pretty sure that now Andrew knows that Jesse knows, because they spend a little bit of time looking at him and then looking at each other and whispering.

It’s pretty much the low point in a summer that’s been nothing but, but Steeger’s there, throwing a wrench in all of Laddy’s plans for fuming silently and staring into the fire pit.

“First of all, anybody that thinks it’s a smart idea to give you matches in your highly emotional state is an idiot,” Steeger says. Andrew and Jesse laugh too, right along with him, and it would be more annoying, probably, if Steeger didn’t have this crazy ability to diffuse tension in the tightest of spots.

They decide to make camp a little beyond the clearing Laddy and Jesse first stumbled on when they were fourteen and sixteen respectively, with the strong desire to park their sleeping bags away from their various and sneaky family members. Laddy’s woken up with shaving cream in his sleeping bag and his fingers in containers of water more times than he can even count.

“Should we flip for tent-mates?” Steeger asks, dropping his stuff and starting to hitch the tent up. Laddy had assumed they’d be tenting together, considering any other possible combinations of two people are enough to make his head spin a little.

“I don’t think we have to do that,” Laddy says, elbowing Steeger a little harder than is probably necessary. 

It feels like more of a romantic comedy than it should. Everybody turns to look at him, Jesse and Andrew across the space and Steeger right next to him, brows raised like Laddy just said something crazy instead of what he actually did, which was to speak logically about a topic he has a lot of experience with.

“Because, uh,” he says. “I obviously know you better than Jesse or Garfield do.” 

Steeger claps his hands together like an asshole, and the sound echoes a little in the clearing. Birds move from tree to tree above their heads and Laddy seriously considers drowning himself in the lake.

“Hi,” Steeger says, speaking slow, like maybe he’s talking to foreign language students instead of the two guys he’s been hiking with for the past five hours. “I’m Kris. I’m a Taurus, I like long walks on the beach and the band Air Supply—”

“You’re an asshole,” Laddy mutters, a little more loudly than usual, so Jesse and Andrew can hear him across the clearing. 

“I’m just saying!” Steeger goes ahead to say, and Laddy makes sure all his things are down and secured before tackling that dude to the ground, trying to steer clear of rocks so neither of them bashes their head open. “You can tell me if you like that dude, Laddy,” Steeger says, but low enough so that Jesse and Andrew can’t possibly hear, unless they have fucking, like, dog hearing.

“I don’t.”

“Is it the roommate, then?” Steeger asks, getting him in what would be a pretty sick headlock, if Laddy weren’t the one cuffed to the bottom of it. “I know you like one of ‘em. You were checking out somebody’s ass while they were doing that yoga/stretching shit earlier.”

Laddy doesn’t really have the space or the range to roll his eyes, considering the chokehold Steeger’s got on him. “Fuck you, man,” Laddy coughs out. “Were _you_ looking?”

Steeger lets him go, which his nice. “Good,” Jesse says, from where he and Andrew are still working on setting up their tent. “I thought I might have to break that up in a second.”

“Like you could’ve,” Laddy and Steeger say in unison, and that’s funny, or maybe it’s just tragic, but everybody laughs anyway.

;;

Jesse doesn’t eat fish, and Laddy’s secure enough to admit that he couldn’t catch a sea creature without his parents’ help to save his life, so for dinner they grill veggie burgers and seitan on the hibachi Andrew managed to drag up in his pack and some hot dogs left over from the barbecue at the Versteegs’ the previous weekend.

It’s all good, except for the seitan, which has this kind of rough, rubber texture that Laddy would liken to shoe leather, maybe, if he’d ever tried it. Jesse loves the stuff, though, and is obviously more than happy to eat his fill, so whatever. It’s not like any food is actually going to waste.

It’s only about 9 by the time they crawl into their tents to sleep, but it’s after a long day of hiking, setting up a camp and a fire and grilling food. Laddy’s arms and legs hurt from the exertion, and there’s enough of a strain in his shoulder to pinch, but not actually be concerning.

He remembers to pop both pills before totally conking out, and when he’s switching out his jeans for sweats, Steeger says, “this isn’t like, _Sitting Around the Campfire With Kris_ , but if you want to talk about whatever the fuck you’re going through. I’m around.”

“I’m set,” Laddy says, but he bumps his fist against Steeger’s shoulder to, like. Show he’s not a total asshole or anything.

Service up at the lake is pretty spotty, because there isn’t a tower around for miles, so Laddy falls asleep looking at two day old box-scores and trying to catch up on week old email.

In the morning it’s Andrew who wakes him up. Laddy opens his eyes to bright sunlight pouring in through the tent flap and Andrew’s legs less than a foot from his own. 

“What,” he says, because he’s not exactly great on his feet before eight or so cups of coffee.

“Hello,” Andrew says, like maybe tent stalking is something he does in his free time, when he’s not being creepy and British. “Sleep well?”

Laddy grunts, throwing his arm over his eyes. “Coffee?” he asks.

“Here,” Andrew says, handing over a travel mug, because apparently he’s got expedient marked off, too. 

“Thanks,” Laddy says, and manages not dribble any liquid out of his mouth. Success. 

They just sit for a while, listening to birds and nature chirp off in the distance, and even further, the low shush of the lake itself. Laddy can’t hear Steeger or Jesse around, but that doesn’t mean they’re not just hiding somewhere, waiting for him to make an ass of himself.

“You told Jess,” Andrew says. He doesn’t sound pissed about it, or happy about it, or anything about it. He just sounds vaguely British and thoughtful. 

“Yeah,” Laddy says. They’ve never actually talked about it before, but this still feels like a conversation he’s had about a thousand times. “It was fucking me up. Or. Something. So I figured, I mean. A year’s too long to keep the band aid on anyway.”

“Do you tell Jesse about everyone you kiss?” Andrew asks, clearing his throat. It should probably sounder meaner than it does, but Laddy has pretty thick skin.

“No,” he says honestly. “But—”

“I took advantage,” Andrew says, sounding beat up about it, even though he didn’t do anything Laddy didn’t want him to. “You were just a kid, and—”

“I’m not a kid,” Laddy says. “I wasn’t. I don’t like dudes because of you. So, you can, like, get over yourself.”

Andrew surprises him by laughing, but it’s not all that nice. 

“I thought you were a couple,” he says, and before Laddy can ask, he says, “you and Jess, I thought—you’ve no idea how terrible I felt.”

“As shitty as I did when I tried to kiss you and I had a girlfriend?” Laddy asks. “It was two days ago, but I’ve got a pretty good memory.” 

It feels weird talking about it, real life laid out like coordinates on a map. It doesn’t even look like all that many until you start to spread out, to look at the ramifications.

“Something like that,” Andrew says, and they actually smile at each other for a minute, spread without much distance between them. “I gather Lacey broke it off.” 

“Yeah. We were breaking up anyway, though.” He scratches at his neck idly and lets himself think of her. “I think we can probably. I hope, I mean. I think we can be friends, sometime. Eventually.”

Andrew smiles again, looking out the tent at something Laddy can’t see. “She’s a nice sort. I quite liked her.”

“Me too,” Laddy says, and maybe this is just what happens. 

Maybe they drink their coffee and enjoy the lake, and go off on their separate paths in a month and then Laddy finds somebody new to get fucked up over and Andrew does a semester abroad. 

“I think you’d go to France,” he says randomly, not even really thinking.

Andrew blinks at him, already saying, “I’d like to call you? If I could.”

“If you,” Laddy says, because this is still only coffee number two, and the world doesn’t always make sense until his veins are really buzzing with it.

“I’d like to call you?” Andrew repeats, and it doesn’t matter how many times he says it, Laddy’s got it on a loop reel in his head already. “If—”

Laddy shifts down, sitting on his palms so he doesn’t do anything stupid and says, “Yeah. Yes. That would be.” It’s already so much worse than he thought it would be. “You should do that, if you want.”

Andrew smiles at him. “I think I will,” he says.

**Author's Note:**

> This story is the result of what happens when you spend too much time on tumblr and end up queuing something two weeks before you randomly reblog something else and as it happens, pictures of Andrew Ladd and Andrew Garfield end up side by side. Someone else might see that and say, "Oh, what a funny coincidence! They're both named Andrew," and move on. I did the opposite, obviously.
> 
> Also - having only been to Canada twice (and Maple Ridge ...never) I assume I got some of the basics of the area wrong. I actually did a lot of research, randomly, but if there's something egregiously incorrect, please let me know and I'll do my best to fix it.


End file.
